


The Fall of Mercutio

by wordslinger



Series: In Fair Verona [3]
Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Drug Use, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Miraxus, Nalu - Freeform, annalogia, jerza - Freeform, mafia-ish au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-10-20 06:05:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 42,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10656465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordslinger/pseuds/wordslinger
Summary: What's in a name? His mother had called him her little starboy for as long as he could remember. Sometimes Jellal wondered if the nickname was enough to part the clouds of his other names - the ones assigned to him at birth.*This series is ordered chronologically.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. I've picked this whole series apart within an inch of its life! I promise this is the last edit _The Fall of Mercutio_ will get. My friend [JackieOkCorral](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackieOKCorral/profile) has so very graciously agreed to slog through all the many bits and pieces of this series as a beta. Credit for the Spanish dialog throughout the entirety of this series goes to tumblr user [Marya-Nikolaevna](http://marya-nikolaevna.tumblr.com/).
> 
> As of this note (7/8/18) the first ten chapters have been through a beta edit. I'll try to group future edited chapters in groups of ~5. Unedited chapters will remain as they are but with an _**Under Construction**_ note. I considered deleting them but alas. My ego will not allow the loss of any comments. Shame me if you will but I enjoy my numbers.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

**_Prologue_ **

* * *

 

            Black fingernails sliced through crimson curtains. The strands fell against her shoulders and brushed the mauve tips of her breasts. Eileen tilted her head and enjoyed the way her hair seemed to flutter at her command.

            “Have you always been so vain?” a voice asked from behind her. Eileen's eyes didn't stray from her own body.

            “Perhaps I have.” Her darkly stained lips twisted into a smirk. She stood from the cushioned bench and glided across the carpet to join her lover amongst the sheets. Smoke curled from the end of his hand-rolled cigarette. Eileen plucked it from his fingers and snubbed the cherry in a crystal tray beside the bed. One smooth leg slid over his hips. She enjoyed the way the blood-red ends of her hair brushed his chest. Any retort he might've had died when she dug sharp, black tips into his pectorals and took him inside of her.

            The answer to his question was no. Eileen had not always been _quite_ so vain, but in her experience men should be granted as little information as possible. Even when his tongue traveled the length of the jagged scar that marred her hip and stomach, she had no inclination to explain the imperfection. The more secrets a woman gifted to a man, the sharper his edge grew. Men only ever did one thing with their blades. _They cut._ And Eileen was sick of the scars.

            Ivan Dreyar was an easy lay. Even without the tricks she'd learned in the pillow houses as a fresh-out-of-naïveté girl, she could tell he had the thirst of a man craving validation. Eileen didn't know all the dirty little details of what a _Dreyar_ was doing all the way in _Crocus_ – alone, no less, and carrying all his funds in his pants pockets – but she didn't need to.

            He lit another cigarette once they were done, this time one of the expensive varieties she kept in a cloisonné case. Eileen didn't smoke, but men like Ivan did – and men like Ivan had loose jaws when they'd been properly serviced and filled their lungs with their poison of choice.

            “Just so we're clear on terms,” he said, blowing a cloud of smoke into the air that still hung thick with sex. “If I do your killing for you, you'll marry me?”

            “Of course.” Eileen pulled her crimson mane over her shoulder and inspected the ends she already knew were perfect. “But,” she added, tossing the section of hair over her shoulder. “ _Just so we're clear on terms,_ I don't share my personal quarters. We have a business arrangement and nothing more.”

            “How do I know you won't pull the same murderous bait and switch trick with me?” His fingers brushed the small of her back. The touch was soft but Eileen knew what possession felt like.

            “Belserion is addicted to his own product. He's driven his name into debt – _my_ name. Are you not above such trash?” She casually shifted on the mattress and let her legs fall over the edge of the bed.

            Ivan snorted. “My father raised me better than that.” She heard him inhale and exhale. “Another marriage should convince him to reinstate me.”

            “And if he doesn't?”

He ignored her question as she'd expected him to. The answer was obvious. "What about your daughter?”

            “My daughter is her own. She won't be changing her name until it's her choice. Belserion is not her father.”

            “Without my name to protect her –”

            Eileen stood and spun around. Her eyes narrowed dangerously. Ivan's hand was still in the sheets, reaching toward her. _“I_ protect my daughter. Not you. She is _no one's_ property.”

            Ivan's eyebrow quirked but he otherwise didn't respond to the threat. “When should it be done?”

            “At your leisure.” Her tone returned to nonchalance and she finally reached for her robe. The silk whispered across her skin as she drew it over her naked body. Ivan nodded and snubbed the cigarette.

            “It'll be done before the week is out. Once my father is properly in hand, Belserion's debts will be paid and I can focus on my affairs in Magnolia.” He leaned back against the mound of pillows at the head of her bed and grinned. “I'm tired of Crocus and my son needs a mother.”

            Eileen didn't betray the disgust she felt at his words, but let the comment slide. Marrying a man like Ivan, who was made of not-so-carefully-concealed sharp edges, would be tricky on its own. She had her own sharp edges, though. If and when Ivan slid against one? His blood would be welcome.

* * *

 

            Except for the black, gaping hole where the theatre used to be, Magnolia still looked mostly the same. Eileen's memories of the rows of velvet seats and gilded moldings were hazy with age. Long before her youth had been taken from her by a greedy man with a knife, her brother worked summers as a stage hand and she'd watched every performance from high above. No one complained about the girl up in the rafters and rigging. Eileen wasn't one for nostalgia or navel gazing, though. The remnants of the formerly magnificent theatre stood as a testament to pretty lies and the rot beneath.

Fairy Tail was a beautiful hotel, but she knew the storerooms below weren't any nicer than Belserion's stash in Crocus. The Dreyars weren't the only cartel scrambling for business, either, and the funeral procession that made its way to Kardia Cathedral would only distract for so long.

            Somewhere in this city, her brother still prowled. She wondered if his torch for lost love had burned out, or if he still bought into the fallacy of shadows and scrim.

* * *

 

            The pads of Anna's feet were nearly soundless in the hallway. She _wasn't_ sneaking – she just wanted to try and cajole her husband from his new office. Anna stopped at the doorway and touched the thick molding of the frame. This room had never been hers to command. It had changed hands from her mother directly to Jude.

            Anna's jaw flexed and she wicked away a frustrated tear. She didn't want to think of Jude... or Layla. Black smoke and the scent of char still filled her nostrils on the mornings she woke from nightmares of fire. Her dreams were always the same. A red curtain – identical to the one that used to hang in the now ruined theater downtown – would pull back to reveal Layla's already burning body. Blackened fingers reached toward her as the curtain burst into flame and melted to the stage in clumps and strings. Her sister's parched screams echoed in her ears. Sometimes Anna thought she still heard them even after she'd been awake for hours.

            Up until the theater fire that had stolen the lives of her sister, Jude, and at least fifty other people, Anna thought she was through with dreams of death. The montages of her son, Jellal, slowly being devoured by a white dragon with her husband's face and blood red eyes hadn't troubled her for nearly a year. She didn't want to unpack why the one common element was Acnologia.

            She knocked softly on the door and peeked inside. A man she still thought handsome leaned against the edge of the enormous desk that had been in the office since before Anna's birth. His hair showed signs of escaping its low ponytail but his shoulders were still high.

            “Are you coming to bed?” she asked more timidly than intended. He didn't acknowledge her right away but when he turned, his eyes were apologetic. Anna couldn't tell which was more genuine – his expression or the way he didn't set aside the papers he'd been reading.

            “I can't. I'm expecting a call and reports from the new barrels still need my eye.”

            “A call this late?” Anna pressed, pretending she didn't know exactly who'd be calling.

            “Business does not sleep, _mi amor.”_ He finally left the stack of papers on the desktop and crossed the room. Anna let him brush her hair from her shoulders and closed her eyes when his finger touched the strap of her nightgown. _“Me lo estás haciendo difícil.”_

            “I'm sorry, I just hate sleeping alone,” she whispered. Acnologia pressed a kiss to her forehead and slid his hand into her hair. Anna inhaled deeply, and the scent of his cologne made her dizzy. He'd always intoxicated her so.

            “We are on a precipice,” he muttered. “Soon this city will be ours. Love and Lucky will shine in a way it never has before.”

            “Of course.” She faked a smile she knew he saw right through.

            “Anna,” he said as she turned to go. “I do this for you. For _mi familia._ Everything I do is for us.”

            Anna's hand settled on his wrist and she turned to brush a kiss over his pulse. “I'll leave you to it, then.” He was already gathering up his papers again before she could shut the door behind her.

            As she made her way back to their empty bedroom Anna fixated on his words. _Mi familia_. How far did his idea of family extend? Did he mean to honor the memories of Jude and Layla? Her long deceased mother? _Those_ particular memories hurt. Layla had always been the favorite and the hand off of their brand and business to Jude made the point abundantly clear. He'd even taken the Heartfilia name with no protest – something Anna had never even considered asking Acnologia to do.

            When Jellal was born, looking exactly like his father, Anna felt even more of an outsider in her childhood home. On his tenth birthday, Acnologia solidified the distance when he bestowed upon their son marks of a family and culture he'd never seen or been a part of. Anna still had misgivings over the tattoo. It singled him out in a way she knew he'd grown to dislike. Lucy, of course, looked exactly like a Heartfilia right down to the blonde hair and brown eyes. Thankfully, the family matriarch hadn't ever played favorites with her grandchildren the way she did her daughters.

            After a long battle with chronic illness, the elder Heartfilia was laid to rest in the ostentatious manner expected from a family as old as theirs. Once the pageantry was behind them, Jude carried on as if there wouldn't be any discussion in how Love and Lucky was run. Despite Acnologia handling nearly _all_ of the international trade negotiations and acquisitions personally, Jude disregarded most of his opinions. Anna didn't truly conceptualize the gap between her husband and brother-in-law until she realized how deep the hypocrisy went. The Heartfilia machine had gummed its cogs with dirty oil, and Anna's head was filled with doubt.

            She didn't _want_ to think of Jude using Acnologia to do the work he wouldn't dirty his own hands with to keep them in the black. She didn't _want_ to think of Acnologia becoming impatient and resentful to the point of perhaps tossing a match inside a theater. Of course, before two weeks ago she hadn't wanted to think of organizing another funeral – this time for her sister and brother-in-law. The passage of time had a way of forcing a person's hand.


	2. Chapter 2

            A strong surge of wind blew the arm of his discarded uniform blazer across the tops of his shoes until Jellal kicked it aside. He sucked in another lungful of smoke and watched the puff disappear in the same gust of wind. Part of his habit entailed watching the smoke curl and twist. He liked the bitter burn, but the beauty of the unpredictable nature of smoke enthralled him.

            All throughout the funeral he'd fixated on the incense. Censers filled with the most pungent cones swung back and forth during the entire procession as liturgies echoed off the high walls of Kardia Cathedral. He'd heard them before, but they'd never _touched_ him. Words in a language he hadn't studied since his years as altar boy stung harshly – perhaps the intensity of it came from sorrow by proxy. Lucy had clung to his arm and soaked his sleeve with her tears. Nothing made Jellal feel more helpless than Lucy's tears. He'd wanted to rage at the world on her behalf. His mother's eyes had been rimmed with red and her golden blonde hair, the same as Lucy's – as _Layla's_ – was disheveled just enough to betray her upset.

            As a child, Jellal had often wished for the blonde hair instead of blue. He didn't _want_ to resemble his father. It was bad enough he'd been permanently marked as a _Fernandes_ when all he'd ever wanted was to be a _Heartfilia_. Like Lucy. Like his _mother._

            Behind him the roof's service door clanged shut – only one person ever made so much noise. Laxus joined him at the building's edge and didn't ask before swiping one of the cigarettes. He sucked in a deep breath and exhaled dramatically before poking the cigarette between his lips and hooking his fingers in the chain link barrier that lined the roof.

            “One of these days I'm gonna catch you jerking it up here,” Laxus drawled. The cigarette stuck to his lip. Jellal thought it a wonder he'd never dropped one and burned a hole in his shirt or pants.

            “You’re welcome to try and fail.” Jellal flicked the still burning butt between the links and turned around to lean on the barrier.

            “How's your cousin?” Laxus asked, not taking his eyes off the stretch of city. The charred remains of the theater stood out, but Jellal was tired of seeing the blight. It would never hold anything but memories of death for him.

            “A mess.”

            “Can't relate.”

            “You could if you were a normal human being with normal emotions,” Jellal muttered, squinting up at the sun.

            “Too bad I'm a soulless dick, then.” Laxus fell silent and Jellal waited. His question about Lucy was a front – a precursor. Laxus had a predictable method of communication. “My dad showed up last night with a new wife in tow.” _This_ caught Jellal's attention. He'd heard stories of Ivan Dreyar but hadn't ever seen the man in person. “She's a MILF.”

            “You're disgusting.”

            “She's not _my_ mom.” Laxus shrugged. “I can think she's hot. Scary, too.”

            “Scary?”

            “Yeah, she looks like she'd eat a man alive if the mood struck.”

            “Yikes.”

            “I got a new sister, too.”

            “Sounds like a wild weekend.”

            Laxus shrugged again, Jellal glanced over and thought it forced. “He's only back because the old man is knocking on death's door.”

            “How sweet.”

            “What I wouldn’t give for a normal fucking family for once.” Laxus stuffed his hands into his pockets and turned back toward the service door. The sound of the door clanging shut was stolen by the wind.

* * *

 

            “You alright?” Ultear asked casually, even though her inquiries were never casual.

            “I'm fine.” Jellal picked at his lunch before pushing it away. “Last week was just _long.”_ Ultear hummed and licked the peanut salt from her fingers. Everything about her manner was completely nonchalant, but Jellal felt her gaze keenly. She opened her cup of cottage cheese and stirred the curds thoughtfully.

            “My mom asked about you.”

            Jellal snorted. He wasn't at all surprised. “Why?”

            “She's less trusting than me.” Ultear scraped a spoonful from the top of her cup and Jellal's stomach twisted. He wished he were hungry. Anything to distract him, really. “She worries.”

            “Tell her not to,” Jellal said under his breath. Their private conversation came to an abrupt end when Erik fell to the bench across from them with an irritated grunt. Sorano tossed her silver hair over her shoulder and grinned viciously.

            “Erik, you look like you ate a lemon,” Ultear said with a growing smile.

            “He's just mad because I beat him to the punch.” Sorano purred.

            “You didn't _beat_ me to _anything,”_ Erik bickered. “It doesn't count as a win if I wasn't playing a game.”

            “Keep telling yourself that, sweetie. Hisui is out of your league anyway.”

            “I don't know why you do this,” he snapped, tearing open a bag of pretzels. “You'll just ruin her.”

            _“Rui_ n is such a nasty word, Erik,” Sorano pouted. “I don't _ruin_ girls.” Erik's arms fell to the table and he shot her a deadpan side eye. “I just have a sweet tooth that's quickly satisfied.” Sorano's gaze settled on Jellal. “Jellal knows what I mean.”

            “I'm insulted you'd imply that I'm as fickle minded as you.” His eyes scanned over his lunch again and he decided to force down the sandwich. Cigarettes didn't mix well with an empty stomach.

            “Oh, sure, my _sister_ has nothing but glowing words about you.” Sorano peeled her orange without even looking at it. Her eyes were sharp as knives. Jellal stuffed half his sandwich in his mouth to avoid a reply. He didn't like to think about the girl he'd attempted to date while still stuck in his personal rabbit hole.

            “Yukino was a little _too_ sweet for Jellal,” Ultear broke in. “He needs someone with more of a punch.”

            Sorano laughed and piled her orange peels on Jellal's tray. Ultear followed suit with her empty cottage cheese cup and Erik only glared. Even with half a sandwich in his belly, Jellal still felt creeping nausea. There was something about the hard edge of tragedy that made the days following bleed together into an unintelligible mush. The temptation to burn away the monotony never really faded.

* * *

 

            Lucy was waiting for him on his bed when he came home. She smiled – the first time he'd seen her do so since the fire.

            “Your mom is enrolling me at Saint Fabrizio's!” Her hair was still in the same bun it had been for the last four days but she _smiled_.

            “How did you convince her of that?” Jellal tossed his blazer and the button-up white shirt next to Lucy on the bed. He left her for the bathroom. Anna could always tell when he'd been smoking and he didn't care for a speech at dinner about it. When he stepped back into the main bedroom, Lucy was touching the embroidered Saint Fabrizio patch on the breast flap of his blazer. “Lucy?”

            “Dad was always so paranoid,” she murmured. “I want out of here, Jellal.”

            “Lucy –” He hesitated and took a seat next to her on the edge of the bed.

            “Oh, don't say it. I already know. My name will attract attention and it's dangerous and I'm a representative of the family blah, blah.” She scowled at him. “No one picks fights with _you.”_

            “My last name isn't Heartfilia,” he said with a grin, nudging her shoulder with his. He left out the part that he had a subtle but not unknown friendship with Laxus _Dreyar_ and absolutely _no one_ had that kind of death wish. Not to mention his closest friend, Ultear, commanded her own brand of terrifying.

            “I'm sorry,” Lucy whispered, gazing up at him. “I didn't mean to bring that up. I know it bothers you.”

            “It's fine.” He shrugged and fell backwards onto the bed. “When do you start?”

            “I have to take some grade level tests tomorrow, but your mom says I could be in by Thursday.” She turned and lifted one knee to the mattress. This smile was less radiant but genuine all the same. “I'm cautiously excited.”

            “If anyone looks at you wrong, just let me know. I'll handle it.”

            “I don't want my scary cousin trailing after me, Jellal,” she said firmly. “It's bad enough I'm coming in two years before I'd graduate. I want to blend in.”

            Jellal folded his arms behind his head and stared at the ceiling. He didn't know how to tell Lucy that _blending in_ would be damn near impossible. Not with her name, and _not_ after the incredibly public death of her parents. His friends wouldn't suit her. Laxus was a self-professed dick, Ultear was far too Machiavellian, Erik hated everyone he came into contact with, and Sorano had a hungry eye for pretty girls like Lucy. No, his cousin wanted – and needed – to find her own way.

            “You'll do fine,” he promised. “I'm really curious, though, how'd you convince my mom to let the tutors off the hook?”

            “I may have cried a little.” Lucy fidgeted and Jellal quirked an eyebrow.

            “A little?”

            “Okay so I sobbed.” She grasped his arm as he sat up, grinning. “But Jellal, I really wanted this! I've never manipulated anyone before and it felt _amazing_ to get what I wanted.”

            Jellal touched her hands and laughed. He loved Lucy as much as he loved his mother but Anna wasn't stupid. Lucy hadn't played anyone.

            “Thursday, huh?” He sighed. “You can ride with me until you get your own car.” Lucy's eyes widened.

            “One step at a time, Jellal. School outside of the house is one thing, I'm not sure I want to drive just yet.” He laughed and stood. The sunbeams were shortening and dinner would be set out soon.

            “Baby steps, then, and when you're ready I'll teach you how to drive.”

            Lucy pursed her lips. “I'll get back to you on that. I know about your shoebox full of tickets and court summons.”

            “I'm a perfectly safe driver!”

            “Speed limits exist, Jellal, and you've got a lead foot.” She smoothed her skirt and headed for his bedroom door. “Thank you.”

            “For what?”

            “For being my rock. For – for the funeral.” Lucy grasped the doorknob and twisted it. He let her go without a word, mulling over the concept that he had the ability to be a _rock_ for anyone.

* * *

 

            The first time he saw it, he thought of rubies. Clusters and ropes of glittering rubies braided into a chain that he'd willingly wrap around his neck and allow to sink him to the very bottom of the ocean. She was beautiful, and Jellal couldn't tear his eyes away from her. A sharp jab to his ribs startled him out of an enraptured state.

            “You're disgusting, Jellal,” Ultear said plainly. “You're staring at that girl like she's a bag of cookies.”

            Jellal's hand slid over his side under his blazer. Ultear had inhumanly pointed elbows. “I wasn't _staring.”_

            “You were staring like a dumbass,” Erik muttered, kicking a sliver of landscaping chip back into the flowerbed.

            “She's pretty,” Sorano mused offhandedly. “But I don't know about that hair.”

Jellal was offended. There was _nothing_ wrong with the girl's hair. It was _perfect_ and he wanted to touch it. The thought horrified him. He didn't even _know her._ “Fuck you guys,” he hissed. He suddenly wanted a cigarette. He wanted the burn in his lungs and against his tongue. He wanted the smoke to curl and blur her image. He wanted – _fuck._

            Without another word he turned and stalked through the doors into the school.

* * *

 

            When he saw her next she was alone in the library. Her hair had been freed of its braid and hung down her back in waves. She curled a strand of it around one finger while absently flipping through the heavy pages of what appeared to be an art reference. Unable to help himself, Jellal took a seat across from her. He realized a little too late that he had no actual books to pull out and his presence probably appeared on the creepy side. The girl looked up, lifted an eyebrow, and glanced around at all the other empty tables.

            “Is it always so crowded in here?” she asked, dropping her eyes back down to the book.

            “Only on Tuesdays.”

            “I'd ask if I could help you with something but I'm new here.”

            “I know.” She flipped another page and tapped her finger on an image of Artemisia Gentileschi's _Susanna and the Elders_. He took the hint and cleared his throat awkwardly. “I saw you this morning outside.”

            “I see.”

            “Are you an art enthusiast?”

            “Not particularly. My mother has some interest, though. She's a fan of Gentileschi in particular. I figure it's a good place to start for a paper on the baroque era.”

            “Her work is pretty gruesome.”

            “If by _gruesome_ you mean her accurate portrayal of Biblical women and their suffering, sure.” She smiled at him and Jellal couldn't stop himself from returning one of his own. “Are _you_ an art enthusiast?”

            “Not at all.”

The girl leaned forward and crossed her arms over the pages of the book. She spoke softly, conspiratorially. “You _do_ realize this is the art reference section, right?” Her head tilted toward the other empty tables and her hair fell over her shoulder. “That's why these tables are so big.”

            “I learn something new everyday.”

            “You're bold.”

            _“Interested,”_ he corrected.

            “In what? Certainly not art.”

            “You.” She laughed lightly and returned to flipping through the pages.

            “You don't know anything about me.” Jellal's smile widened and he held out his hand across the table.

            “I'm Jellal Fernandes.”

She hesitated before taking his hand but eventually reached over to squeeze his fingers.    “Charmed,” she said simply, returning to her book.

            “You’re gonna leave me hanging like that?” Jellal couldn't stop smiling and outright laughed when she finally glanced back up at him.

            “I suppose that's rude of me. Erza Scarlet.”

            “That's a great name,” he said, his eyes straying to her hair again.

            “My mother's ex-husband called it _audacious.”_

            “He clearly had no taste.”

            “My mother didn't think so either.” Erza smiled and closed the book. “I should go. Lunch period is just about over.”

            “Were you hiding in here?” He watched as she stood, smoothed her skirt, and returned the book to a re-shelving cart.

            “Yes, My stepbrother offered to let me sit with him but he's a grouch so I can't imagine he has nice friends.”

            “As someone who also does not have nice friends, I can relate.”

            “Is that why you're hiding in here, too?” Erza hefted her bag over her shoulder and pushed her chair in. Jellal stood and slid his hands into his pockets.

            “I've been antsy lately and one of my not-nice friends is nosey. I wasn't in the mood for an inquisition.”

            “Well, it was nice to meet you, Jellal Fernandes.” She stepped around the table and made to leave.

            “The pleasure was all mine, Erza Scarlet.” He watched her go and didn't realize until she was out of sight that his terminal state of nauseated anxiety had taken a backseat.


	3. Chapter 3

            “My grandson calls you Scary Stepmom.” Makarov's voice was hoarse but his laugh was never anything less than full. Eileen genuinely enjoyed his company, and only _partly_ because Ivan couldn't be bothered.

            “It wouldn't be the first time a man has thought me frightening,” she said, crossing one leg over the other. “I admit it's a hobby of mine to knock them off guard.”

            “Laxus is a good boy,” he sighed. “I worry more about him than anything else in this life.”

            “He's nothing like his father,” Eileen offered.

            “No.” Makarov drew a rattling breath. “Indulge a dying man, would you? Why have you brought Ivan back?” Eileen's smile fell into ruefulness.

            “I didn't bring anything back to Magnolia but myself. Your son would've found his own way with or without me.”

            “He's a dangerous man who's always flirted with darkness and violence.”

            “I'm aware of his bloodlust.”

            “And you married him anyway? What about your daughter? Surely a father like that –”

            Eileen interrupted him more gently than she would've anyone else. “Erza doesn't have a father.”

            “Do you think you can control Ivan? If so, then I'm afraid you don't know him at all.”

            “Men like Ivan can't be controlled.” Eileen sighed and wondered how honest she could be with Makarov. “Ivan exists on the head of a match. Eventually he will catch fire.”

            “What will you do then?”

            “What one typically does with matches once they've been used.” She found a flicker of relief on his face. “I will snub him out. Have you written him back into your will? It's what he's after.”

            “Yes, but only until Laxus turns twenty. I have no other choice.” Makarov's eyes were suddenly bright. “If something should happen to Ivan –” He coughed again and hid the splatter of blood in a fold of sheets. “Your marriage is –”

            “I watched the judge sign the certificate myself. I'm not a fool.” Makarov nodded at her words and hid eyes drooped. “Get some rest. Let _me_ worry about playing with the matches.”

* * *

 

            The first time the tattoo caught her eye, Eileen only saw what looked like a tail and perhaps a set of claws. Her new stepson fancied himself an amateur mechanic and could often be found leaning under the hood of his car with the hem of a dirty t-shirt riding up over his belt. She left it alone, though, and tucked the information away in her back pocket for safekeeping.

            Fairy Tail was exquisite, and her new suites pleased her far beyond expectation. Most days Ivan spent his hours in the upstairs office while Eileen took account of her surroundings and the people who kept the hotel running smoothly. Makarov's assistant, Gildarts Clive, had a lustful, wandering eye. His daughter did not attend Saint Fabrizio's Academy, but was roughly the same age as Laxus. The young woman with platinum blonde hair tending bar was competent but Eileen suspected she was lying about her age. She had excellent fake identification. Makarov had a soft heart for the young and desperate, it seemed.

            The next time Eileen caught sight of the tattoo, she didn't let it go. Laxus never took to the basement level pool until well into the night. His back was bare as his body sliced powerfully through the water and the dragon stood out against the dark blue pool tiles. Its body was a serpentine color with bolts of lighting twisted between sharp claws. He was oblivious to her presence and startled when he hoisted himself from the water to find her holding a towel in an outstretched hand.

            “Thanks,” Laxus muttered cautiously. He wiped at his face before moving to his arms. When he turned away from her, she got a much better look at the design inked into his back.

            “Interesting tattoo.” Eileen smirked when his shoulders stiffened. After a moment too long, he attempted to shrug casually. “Does your father know you have it? Or your grandfather?”

            “I do what I want.”

            Eileen laughed softly and poked at the dragon's tail with her fingernail causing him to jump. “Let's make a deal, shall we?”

            Laxus sighed loudly and snatched a wadded t-shirt from one of the poolside chairs. He pulled it on before turning back around. “What do you want from me?”

            “Honesty.” Her tone was flat but commanding.

            “About?”

            “The Dragon Slayers.” Eileen watched his face carefully.

            “I don't know what you're talking about.”

            “I was born in Magnolia, did you know that?” Her sudden shift in tone threw him visibly off guard. “ _No one_ gets a dragon tattoo in this town unless they're _in.”_

            “Look –” Laxus froze and his mouth clamped shut when she stepped into his personal space.

            “You misunderstand.” He was taller than her by several inches but Eileen had his attention by the balls. Men – _boys –_ like Laxus were easy to gather into hand. “The Dragon Slayers don't interest me. It's my daughter I'm here about.”

            “Your – you mean _Erza?”_

            “That's the one.”

            “I'm confused.”

            “Men are often confused, Laxus, it's a condition you should get used to.” She enjoyed the way his throat bobbed. He didn't dare huff in indignation. _Perfect._ “Erza has a very _specific_ hobby and I was hoping you could help her out.” Eileen could practically see the cogs turning in Laxus's mind and she bit back a grin when the light bulb finally came on.

            “No.”

            “You'd spoil her fun? I'm disappointed in you.”

            “I don't know anything about... _that.”_ He moved to step around her but Eileen's hand shot up and one black fingernail stabbed into the flesh of his cheek – right at the tip of the scar snaking down over his eye.

            “No?” Her smile was sharp as knives. Laxus blinked. “If you intend to succeed your father one day, Young Master Dreyar, you'll need a better poker face.”

            He didn't move an inch. His breaths were shallow and when he finally spoke, his voice was low. “Why are you with him?” Laxus asked. “You know what he's like, don't you?”

            “I know enough,” she replied. “I also know what _I_ am.” Eileen removed her finger from Laxus's face but still granted him no quarter. “Will you help my daughter or not?”

            His eyes stayed locked on hers for a long moment before nodding jerkily. “She better have her own stuff, though, and I'm not responsible for what goes down.”

            “I think you'll find that Erza is an incredibly capable girl.” Eileen finally stepped back and turned sharply. She felt his eyes on her as her hair whirled around and settled on her shoulder. “No need to inform me of details. She knows what she wants.”

            Eileen's heels clicked on the floor of the elevator as she stepped inside. She graced Laxus with one last grin before the doors slid shut.

* * *

 

            Acnologia's lips ghosted along the curve of Anna’s neck. His fingers slipped beneath the flaps of her robe and attempted to push the silk off her shoulders. Her hand closed around his wrist just in time to stop him.

            “I'm worried,” she whispered, even though her eyes fluttered closed in anticipation.

            _“No, mi amor.”_ His voice was soft but ragged.

            “Please, tell me what keeps you up all night.” Anna spun around and gazed up at him. His fingers combed through her hair and his dark eyes caught on the glowing strands. The edge in his expression softened and he brought his hand to his lips.

            _“Luz de luna de oro,”_ he murmured, hiding his face in her hair and neck.

            “You would tell me if there was a problem, wouldn't you?” she begged. Despite the beginnings of rot she could feel worming its way through the soul of the man she'd once loved so deeply, she _wanted_ to trust him.

            _“Te amo. Todo va a estar bien.”_ His eyes focused on hers and, even though she could taste the lie on his lips, she let him kiss her.

            In the darkness, Anna could pretend there wasn't a growing rift between them. She could trick herself into believing Acnologia hadn't been polluted by a hunger for power. In her fantasies, he still smiled, and Jellal still gazed at his father in wonder instead of disdain – they were a _family._

* * *

 

            When Anna woke the television was blaring a newscast. Acnologia sat rapt on the end of the bed clutching the remote in his hands. The sheets were still tangled about his waist.

            “What's going on?” she whispered as she sat up and felt around on the floor beside the bed for her robe. Nudity somehow felt _wrong_ in the daylight.

            “Makarov Dreyar,” he said curtly. “He's dead.”

* * *

 

            Laxus struggled with his necktie until a pair of hands slid up his chest and pried his fingers away.

            “Why're you so good at this?” he muttered, irritated only with himself.

            “Because I have a brother with big, useless man-hands just like yours.” She smiled. The fabric of his tie swished as she folded it over itself into a trinity knot.

            “They weren't so useless last night.” Laxus grinned and moved in to kiss her, but she dodged.

            “Maybe I'm easier than your accessories.” Her lips curled into a grin and a dimple appeared on her right cheek.

            “Mira –”

            “Don't ask. I'll say no and you _know_ it's the right thing.”

            “But –”

            “I can't risk it.” Her smile turned downcast. “I'm sorry, Laxus, but my family comes first. Now that your grandfather is gone I'm afraid of what might happen to me.” Mirajane turned from him to step back into the dress she'd been wearing the previous night. “I should go before everyone else wakes up.” When she made for the door, his hand closed gently around her elbow.

            “I'm sorry,” Laxus said softly. “I know where your boundaries are.”

            Mirajane turned back to him to give him a once-over glance. She sighed and reached up to finger his hair. “Promise me you'll do something about that before you leave.”

            “I'll slick it back just like a proper gentleman.”

            She smirked. “You couldn't pull that off if you tried.”

            “Will you be around tomorrow tonight?”

            _“I_ will.” Mirajane turned toward the door again. “But _you_ won't. Tomorrow's Thursday, remember? Or are you taking the night off because of the funeral?”

            _“Shit,”_ he hissed. “I can't. I promised Scary Stepmom I'd take Erza with me.”

            “What would you do without me?” Mirajane blew him a kiss and shut the door behind her. Laxus snorted and padded into his bathroom. His hair was indeed a mess. He palmed a handful of hair product through the tangle and avoided his own eyes.

* * *

 

            Lucy laughed and Jellal wanted to be happy for her. He _did_. Actually carrying out her decision to attend Saint Fabrizio's, against the wishes of her deceased parents, had been huge. He was proud of her and wanted to support her efforts to be independent – but her choice in friends made his eye twitch.

            For almost a week he'd been enamored with Erza. The shape and color of her seeped into every thought, every _dream,_ he had. He wanted to be alone with her and see her smile just for him, he wanted to get his fingers in her hair, he wanted to bruise her lips with his, he wanted to find out what was beneath her uniform.

            “You look like you're going to leap over this table and do something stupid,” Ultear whispered in his ear. Jellal jumped and glared at her.

            “Like what?” he asked. His gaze slid back to Erza and Lucy, but he could still feel her eyes studying him with an intensity only Ultear was capable of. “You think I'll scare her off or something?”

            “She's a Dreyar.” Ultear remarked with a shrug. Jellal froze. Her words echoed in his head like a gunshot in close quarters. “You've misjudged her if you think she's the type to be scared off.”

            “What did you just say?”

            “I said she isn't the type to be –”

            “Not that,” Jellal hissed. “The other thing. Erza isn't a _Dreyar._ Her last name is Scarlet.”

            “You didn't know?” Ultear's eyebrows shot up and her lips twitched into a smirk. “She's the daughter of Ivan Dreyar's new wife. Are you and Laxus not low key BFF’s anymore?” she asked incredulously. Jellal stared hard at the curtain of red hair. Lucy laughed at something she'd said but his chest felt painfully hollow. _“How could you not know?”_

            “If what you say is true, why isn't she at the funeral today? Why is she in school?” His questions were flimsy and he knew it.

            “I don't have any idea. Maybe her mother would rather her not miss days so soon after transferring. Maybe she knows funerals are bullshit pageantry for the living and have very little to do with the dead.”

            “You think you know everything about everybody.” Jellal muttered, reaching for the unopened soda can in his bag. He didn't want to believe any of it, but he'd never known Ultear to be a liar. She was always brutally honest to the point of cruelty.

            “There's something about her just beneath the surface,” Ultear went on. “I can't quite put my finger on it but there's _something._ Anyway, I don't think I know _everything_ about _everybody_ , you're so dramatic, Jellal.”

            “Why am I friends with you again?”

            Her smile turned sharp. “Because I do know _you.”_ She eyed him again, harsher this time. Jellal's skin crawled in a way he didn't entirely hate. “And you've got that look.”

            “What look?” he muttered. His eyes fixated on Erza's finger where she curled and uncurled a strand of her hair. The soda was warm and borderline disgusting and filled his mouth with sticky sweetness.

            “The look you used to get when you needed something.” She let her words hang in the air and Jellal dangled the soda can between two fingers with forced nonchalance.

            “I don't know what you mean.”

Ultear's fingernails suddenly stung him in the crease of elbow and arm. He dropped the can to the tabletop and scowled at her. Her eyes narrowed menacingly. “Don't fucking lie, Jellal. Not to _me._ I know you better than anyone else here – even your cousin.” Her nails dug deeper into his arm, but he didn't flinch or stop her. “Don't fuck around. Not like last time. If you need me, fucking call me.”

            “I don't,” he rasped. “I promise, it's not –” Jellal paused to catch his breath. “It's not like before.” Ultear's eyes didn't leave his until she was satisfied he wasn't lying.

            “I know you have a thing for her.” She nodded toward Erza. “Leave it alone. Do I need to explain why? To _you?”_

            “No,” he whispered, rubbing the spot where she'd clawed his arm thoughtfully. “No, of course not.”

* * *

 

            His finger hooked in the collar of his uniform blazer and he tossed it over his shoulder like the rich asshole he'd been born to be. Jellal never parked near the doors and usually enjoyed the last cigarette of his day, before his mother retired to bed, on his way to the far end of the student lot. The smoke was wasted, though, because the wild pink hair of Natsu Dragneel ruined _everything._

            He didn't truly _hate_ Natsu as a person; Jellal just hated his lack of required fucks to give about literally anything. Natsu's father – known leader of the Dragon Slayers, a gang that held a decades-old grip on the south side of town – hadn't attended any mass at Kardia Cathedral other than Christmas in years, but his cash kept the doors of the academy wide open for his son. Natsu didn't even bother to hide the dragon tail that curled around his arm or the claws that stretched over his hand – completely visible even when he wore the blazer. Jellal would never be allowed such a devil-may-care attitude.

            Lucy's laugh and genuine smile made Jellal want to rip Natsu's spine out right through his mouth. She flipped her hair and Natsu grinned in a supremely annoying way – annoying because it looked just as genuine as Lucy's. Jellal flicked his half-finished cigarette carelessly and shoved Natsu aside to yank open the passenger door of his car for Lucy. He'd bravely left the top down that morning and was happy to be able to toss his blazer and bag into the backseat without turning his back on Natsu.

            “Let's go,” he bit out.

            Lucy's scowl could've curdled milk. _“Jellal –”_

            “I'll see you tomorrow Luce,” Natsu said with a familiarity that made Jellal hate him even more. “Later, Fernandes.” He turned on his heel and disappeared around the corner of the brick wall that bordered the student parking lot.

            “You're an asshole, Jellal,” Lucy spat at him. She fell into the passenger seat and stared straight ahead.

            _“Luce?”_ Jellal demanded as he shut her door and stalked around the front of the car. “He calls you by a pet name?”

            “So what if he does?” she exploded. “Maybe I _like_ it!”

            “You could do a lot better than a gang member like Dragneel. His dad is shady as fuck, Lucy.”

            “And ours aren’t?” She pinned him with a glare and Jellal didn't correct her error. “Don't act like I don't know where the money comes from! I may be sheltered but I'm not stupid. I know about the drugs.”

            Jellal started up his car and sighed. He let his head fall back against the leather rest before looking over at her. “I never said you were stupid. I just worry about you.”

            “Well –” she broke off and glanced out at the empty parking lot to wipe away her angry tears. Lucy had always been a crier. He knew she hated it and never teased. “Don't. I'm _fine._ ”

            “You'd tell me if you weren't?” he asked, reaching over to dig out another cigarette from the glove compartment. The day had been rough and he'd risk Anna's wrath for a proper smoke before he had to wait until nearly midnight.

            “I promise.” Lucy grabbed his wrist, and searched the glove compartment for him. “You'll wreck the whole pack if you keep manhandling everything like that.” She lit the end as well, and stashed the pack and the lighter away under his insurance, registration, and buyer's handbook. “I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention Natsu at home.”

            “You insult me,” he said emptying his lungs of the smoke and shifting the car into gear. “I'm not a narc.”

* * *

 

            Jellal leaned as far over the edge of his window as he dared. The night was cool and the clouds hung low and heavy – it would rain soon. He sucked in a deep breath of cigarette smoke and thought of red things. Red hair, red lips. _Red._

            He also thought of Ultear's offer; the one he wouldn't consider taking. That road was permanently closed. Jellal glanced down at the arm she'd grabbed at lunch. His skin was smooth in the moonlight and free of scars. He owed her an impressive debt. _She,_ of course, didn't see it that way. Her enjoyment had been part and parcel to his, but Jellal knew the absolute truth. He'd been toeing a razor sharp edge, and Ultear's grip had been the only thing keeping him from falling face first.

            He also knew not enough time had passed for him to be completely free of his romance with the white powder. The edge called his name and this time it was _red._


	4. Chapter 4

            It wasn’t often that Jellal found Laxus waiting for him on the roof of Saint Fabrizio’s. Catching him there was a bit of a phenomenon. He wasn’t ever so early for school. His fingers curled around the chain links of the barrier so tightly that his knuckles were white – and, like Jellal, he didn't seem to be deterred from the roof by the pre-storm mist. Desperation made the already thick air almost tangible.

            Jellal said nothing as he joined Laxus at the barrier. He shook out a cigarette for himself and another for his friend. Laxus took it _and_ the light. He sucked down a quarter of the thing before finally relaxing his shoulders.

            “I _fucking hate_ my dad,” he said, the precipitation in the air coating his face.

            “It's the way of our people.” Jellal meant for it to be a joke but the levity got lost on the trip from his brain to his mouth.

            “He's kicking up shit with the Dragon Slayers.”

            “Why am I not surprised.” Jellal snorted. “No wonder Erik's been testy lately.”

            “He hasn't changed at all.” Laxus glanced down at his wasted cigarette. “And I guess neither have I. The old man is dead and I'm still stuck in the goddamn middle.”

            Jellal didn't see him toss the cigarette angrily through the links, but he watched the flecks of live ash darken in the mist.

            “He doesn't know about your affiliation yet?”

            _“Affiliation_ is a loose word for a big fucking tattoo on my back. I've got nothing between him and me anymore. I don't care about the drugs or even the hotel.” Jellal glanced over at Laxus but said nothing. “I just want to exist without tiptoeing around.”

            “So you joined the Dragon Slayers to help yourself simply exist?” Laxus irritated him sometimes. He contradicted himself without even noticing he'd done it – a thing Jellal was reluctantly familiar with. “Look, man, you're going to have to do something.”

            “Like you did?” Laxus spat. “Should I start sneaking shit? Should I start seducing death because I'm pissed off about my dad's Faustian fantasy? Or maybe I should tell him that it's _your_ family beefing up the Dragon Slayers. I'm sure he'd love that.”

            “Do you need a snack or something?” Jellal lit a second cigarette and blew the smoke to the side where it would waft in front of Laxus's face. “You're being an asshole.”

            “I've been telling you for years. You should start listening.”

            “It's my dream to one day witness some chill from you.”

            Laxus's expression was deadpan. “Dreams are the children of an idle brain.”

            “Mercutio died, dumbass. You'll jinx yourself.”

            “Pretty sure I did that the moment I took off my shirt and let Igneel's guy put a dragon on my back.” Laxus stalked away and jerked open the metal door. He let the wind clang it shut, and Jellal was left alone.

* * *

 

            The low light of the warehouse revealed rows upon rows of stacked barrels. Jellal's eyebrows twitched. He'd expected wine and flavored liqueur bottles – not whiskey barrels. This was new. Each was stamped with dates, grain information, and wood type. Jellal ran his fingers over the edges with heavily muted interest. He knew Acnologia was grooming him. If he betrayed his intrigue, he'd lose what little freedom he had left. When they reached the end of the first row, Jellal saw a logo burned into the side of the last barrel. The letters curled and twisted around each other as they spelled out _Heartfilia-Fernandes: Single Barrel._ His curiosity bubbled over.

            “What is all this?” he asked, touching the scorched curve of wood.

            “How we will survive, _hijo mio.”_ Acnologia laughed softly and his gaze fell to his shoes. “And it is a show of good faith toward your mother.”

            Jellal scowled. “I don't understand.”

            “You will.” He jerked his chin over his shoulder and spun on his heel. “Come.” Acnologia led him through rows of actual bottles. Some were tall and tilted slightly so as not to dry the corks, but others were smaller and rounded. The labels were all printed in Spanish. Jellal resented how much he struggled with the words.

            Acnologia stopped in front of a door painted just as black as the walls. He produced a key and slid it into the lock. When Jellal stepped across the threshold, he jammed his hands into his pockets and dug his short fingernails as far into his palms as they would go.

            Hundreds of little bags littered the tops of the tables as a handful of men with various points of dragon tattoos poking out from the edges of their clothing, lined them neatly into smaller – more concealable – boxes. Jellal's eyes caught one such pile of bags. The stamps weren't identical. Some were green and resembled a more typical dragon, but others had the symbol he recognized immediately as his father's. The ouroboros dragon Acnologia favored had once been a staple of Jellal's many hidden shoeboxes. The arm Ultear had grabbed earlier that week finally began to sting.

            “What's going on?” he said in a more clipped tone than he'd intended.

            “This,” Acnologia replied in his most dangerous whisper, “is our _conejo blanco.”_ Jellal froze when his father leaned over his shoulder and spoke in his ear. “Your mother wants a return to legitimacy. We can't have that without more stability.” Acnologia stepped around him and his voice fell even lower. “Ivan Dreyar is a fool. He wants what is not for sale. He does not even know who owns the property he seeks. In the end, _se inclinará ante mí.”_

            Jellal's heart raced. His arm throbbed. He had to get out.

* * *

 

            The riverbank was not a quiet place, but the rushing water and wind carried his tension all the way down to the bay, and calmed his mind. Jellal's palms still sweated as he drew air in through his nose and pushed it out of his mouth. His phone vibrated in his pocket and wouldn't stop. He shouldn't have texted Ultear. He should've just gone to bed. _Fuck!_ He felt like he was falling apart.

            On a whim, Jellal threw his phone into the glove compartment and left the car behind. The looming storm still hadn't opened up, but mist lingered in the air. He half expected his shoes to sink into mud when he edged past the upper lip of the flood wall that lined the riverbank.

            Jellal leaned against the side of the wall that faced the lowest stretch of river and wished he'd remembered the cigarettes instead of leaving them in the glove compartment with his phone – _and Ultear._

            “You look like shit,” a voice he recognized immediately said from the ground beside him. Jellal's eyes slid open and he saw _red._ Erza gazed up at him with a blank expression.

            “I didn't see you,” he muttered and turned to go. “Sorry.”

            “Didn't anyone ever tell you?” she asked, pinning him in place far too easily with her voice. “You can't run from a demon with its claws in your back. Every time you turn around, it'll be there.”

            “You don't know me,” he bit out. She smiled, and he felt a stab of guilt when it was one of sad understanding.

            “I believe that was my line the last time we spoke.”

            “I'm sorry for snapping at you.” Jellal ran his hands over his face.

            “Don't be. I just know that look. Men who wear it, never wear it for long.” Jellal heard her shift in the grass and felt when she stood. Erza breezed past him and he couldn't stop himself from filling his lungs with her scent of freesia as she went – it was delicious and _so much better_ than literally _anything else._ “Try not to destroy yourself,” she whispered. “Lucy doesn't need more death in her life.”

            “What do you know about Lucy?” he found himself asking.

            “I know she's the only friend I have at school. Don't break her because you want to break yourself,” she warned. “Excuse me, I have somewhere to be.” Erza disappeared around the corner. He stood in the exact same position, breathing in every last bit of her freesia body spray.

* * *

 

            “You're scaring me, Jellal,” Ultear said harshly as she fell into step beside him the next morning. “Why did you text me _and then disappear?”_

            “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I'm fine.”

            “I told you not to fucking lie to me.” She edged in front of him and narrowed her eyes. “You look like shit.”

            “That seems to be the consensus,” he said dryly and tried to shove past her. Ultear was relentless. She grabbed his arm but with less force than the last time.

            “It takes a lot to freak me out, Jellal, but you are _freaking me out.”_ She glanced around and spoke again in a quieter tone. “I can't help you if you aren't honest with me.”

            Jellal glanced over at a crowd of giggling first year girls as they swarmed past. He tried to smile but could only manage a pathetic grimace. “I'm sorry, okay? I had a moment last night but I'm _fine.”_

            Ultear's eyes searched him in a way he hated – _needed._ “Don't do that again. I can take you at your worst, but I can't help you if you're dead.”

            She left him in the crowded hallway without another word. He could tell he'd upset her deeply, but felt helpless to fix it. Jellal hated secrets and shadows – and he hated _himself_ for being drawn to them. Ultear knew where all of his monsters lurked, and shutting her out was dangerous, but her brand of redemption wouldn't clean any of the dirty windows in his mind.

            Jellal shook his head and made his way toward the courtyard. His first class of the day was in the hallway he'd just left behind, but his lungs craved fresh air.

He didn't find the peace he wanted. Seated at the only table sheltered from the deluge of rain were Lucy, Natsu, and Erza. Natsu's arm was casually slung around Lucy's shoulders. Jellal did his best to tamp down the impulse to tear it off with his bare hands. There seemed to be a friendly – but heated – discussion happening. He didn't care. His eyes were stuck on the damp strands of slightly curled scarlet that she'd brought over her shoulder. Jellal's fingers knew what they wanted. They wanted to be tangled up in red.

            She surprised him by glancing up and meeting his stare. Her lips – pink today, and without lip-gloss – turned up into a grin.

* * *

 

            “Whoa! Whoa!” Jellal reached over to grab the steering wheel of his car. “Just take it easy. Turns that sharp aren't for beginners.”

            “I'm sorry!” Lucy's hands fell into her lap and Jellal's heart almost jumped from his chest.

            “The wheel! You can't just –” His hands gripped the wheel tightly from the passenger seat. “Ease off the gas and go slow on the brakes.”

            Lucy did not go slow on the brakes. The car jerked to a stop and she heaved a deep breath before letting her head fall forward onto the steering wheel. When she sat up straight again, her eyes were leaking tears.

            “I'm sorry,” she sobbed, trying to dry her face with the collar of her t-shirt. “Maybe driving just isn't for me.”

            “No, Lucy, it's fine.” Jellal controlled his breaths and tried to do the same for his heart rate. “You've been at it for less than an hour. It's way too soon to just give up.”

            “Are you sure?”

            “Let's focus on moving from a stop and then braking. Keep it real slow and you can get a feel for the pedal sensitivity.”

Lucy sniffled and wiped the remaining tears from her face. “Right. Slow.” She made a circle around the empty parking lot and took about twice as long to bring the car back to a complete stop. Jellal took that as improvement.

            “See? You can learn to drive, Lucy. Just be patient with yourself.” She smiled brightly, and Jellal felt his mood lift.

            “Can I drive us to lunch?”

            “Uh –” He laughed nervously and grasped the door handle. “I think it's a little too soon for you to be on the open road.” Jellal switched places with Lucy and started the car up again. “Where to?”

            “What about that new place over by the river?”

            “The sandwich place?” Jellal ran through his mental map of the city. “Yeah, okay.” He pulled out of the parking lot grateful to be back behind his own wheel.

            The restaurant was busy but not packed. Lucy led him out onto the patio that overlooked the river. She plowed through her fries before touching her sandwich.

            “I didn't realize you were so hungry.”

            “Driving is hard work, Jellal. I am in emotional upheaval.”

            “I feel like it's _me_ who's in upheaval. Your driving needs some serious work.” He grinned around a mouth full of sandwich when Lucy glared at him.

            “You _did_ volunteer,” she said haughtily. “You can't take it back now.”

            “Now that I know where we stand, I don't think I'd trust anyone else to handle the job. I'm not going anywhere.” Lucy smiled and finished off her sandwich. She propped her chin on the heel of her hand and gazed out over the river.

            “I think it's going to rain again soon,” she said with a sigh.

            Jellal nodded, but his thoughts were elsewhere. It had been raining the last time he saw Erza on Friday. Stray droplets stuck to her hair and she'd smiled at him. Despite his own good sense and Ultear's warning, he wondered how many backflips and through what kinds of hoops he'd have to jump through to find her alone again.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**Important notice!** _
> 
> This is the final chapter that has been seen by my new beta! Chapter Six and beyond have yet to be edited! I will post edited chapters in groups of ~5 as I receive them back from my beta reader.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

            Jellal had never been one for morning Mass. If and when he arrived at school early enough to consider attending, he opted for the roof instead. He was, in fact, on his way to the roof when he passed by the chapel and saw a curtain of red spilling over the back of the last row of pews. Despite better sense, Jellal detoured into the chapel and slid into the pew beside her. Erza's eyes didn't stray from the altar, but her lips betrayed a tiny smile when he leaned toward her.

            _“Whoever shall breathe a sigh toward me from the bottom of her heart when she awakes in the morning and shall ask me to work all his works in her throughout the day, will draw me to her,”_ Jellal whispered in her ear. She turned her face toward him, and despite being in the chapel and already disrupting prayers, he wanted to kiss her.

            “While I appreciate your feminine adaptation of the traditionally masculine default,” Erza said, glancing back at the altar, “your references are blasphemous and carnal.”

            “I can't help your interpretation.” He grinned and lifted his hand to the wisps of hair that stuck to the shoulder of her blazer. “My heart is earnest.”

            “I've no doubt.” Erza sat straighter and crossed her legs at the ankle. “Do you have all your prayers memorized?”

            _“Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee; Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.”_ Jellal crossed himself and grinned. “Should I recite the others in Latin?”

            “Do it outside,” she whispered. “I’d like to think God isn’t in the habit of smiting even the worst sinners inside the church, but I’m taking no chances.”

            “Technically this is a chapel.”

            “Am I in danger of a smiting by proxy? I should probably avoid you for my own safety.”

            “If God wanted me dead, he's had plenty of opportunities. I survive by his grace alone.” Jellal couldn't hide his grin when Erza suddenly stood and brushed past him. He didn't make room. Her thighs pressed into his knees as she stepped over his feet.

            Erza swept quietly to the front of the small chapel and lit a candle. The rows of votives in glass gave her scarlet hair a glow he couldn't pry his eyes away from. On her way out of the chapel she grinned at him, and Jellal thought the lack of a morning smoke was worth it.

            He didn't leave the chapel until the warning bell rang. Ultear passed by him and arched an eyebrow curiously. Jellal rolled his eyes and braced himself for the interrogation he knew would come.

* * *

 

            Ultear waited a full two days to confront him. He thought the waiting period was intentional. He hadn't been dreading her, but her method annoyed him. On Wednesday afternoon, she took the opposite seat at the picnic table and prepared her lunch without making eye contact. Jellal patiently made his way through a bag of pretzels.

            “How long have we been classmates, Jellal?” Ultear asked, poking at the leaves of her salad with a fork.

            “A good minute.”

            “Never once since you grew out of being an altar boy have I ever seen you at morning mass. Has the spirit moved in you?” She took a bite of the salad and finally met his eyes.

            “You could say that.”

            “You're an idiot. Why must I always bear witness to your flights of death fancy?”

            “I'm pretty sure prayer is the opposite of fancying death.” Jellal grinned and cracked open his bottle of water.

            “If you think I don't know what you're doing, I'm appalled.” She opened her mouth to fill it with more salad, but he knew there were more arguments coming.

            “A conversation isn't a bad thing.”

            “Is talking to her your endgame? It's obvious you want her.” Ultear sighed. “Jellal –”

            “I _like_ her.” Ultear's eyes narrowed but he didn't flinch.

            “Don't do anything stupid. I can't save you this time. Does Laxus know?”

            “Nope,” Jellal said with finality. “There's nothing for him to know.”

            “My official stance is an objection, but I honestly can't remember a time when I've seen you smile like you were on Monday.” Ultear smirked. “Even if it was far too mischievous for morning mass.”

            “Your objection has been noted.”

* * *

 

            The rain returned in full force on Thursday afternoon. For the second time in two weeks, Laxus surprised him. His tall form could be seen from halfway across the parking lot where he leaned against the side of Jellal's car. His face was turned down to shield his eyes from the rain. Jellal slowed his jog upon approach. He said nothing to Laxus as he retrieved a towel from the trunk and spread it over the passenger seat.

            “Get in,” he muttered over the pound of rain. “And try not to get the seat wet. Lucy will be pissed.” Jellal had left her under the brick overhang to wait while he pulled the car around. He didn't need to squint through the storm and across the parking lot to know Natsu had taken his place at Lucy's side.

            “Does it bother you that Dragneel has his paws all over your cousin?” Laxus asked, ducking inside the car.

            “The last time I brought it up, she ripped me a new asshole.” Jellal turned the key in the ignition and switched on a low blast of warm air. “I'll mind my own until he hurts her.”

            “Come out with me tonight.” Laxus said, with more mirth than Jellal cared for.

            “No.”

            “Come on,” Laxus said in a way that could almost qualify as a whine. “I need a break, and it's not the same now that I gotta drag _Erza_ along.”

            “Erza?” Jellal asked with an attempt at offhandedness. His fingers were white with chill. Laxus braced himself against the back of the seat to dig in his pocket, and Jellal frowned at the wet spot he left where the towel had slipped down.

            “Here.” He handed over a fold of paper. “Drop my name and no one will fuck with you. Come find me and bring some cash.”

            Laxus left the car abruptly. Jellal had half a mind to throw the paper right out the window but didn't. Instead, he stuffed it into his own wet pocket and tried to forget about it. When Lucy opened the car door, she saw the damp towel and frowned.

            “Honestly, Jellal,” she scolded, wiping the seat while trying to ease into it as quickly as possible. “What was the point of making me wait?”

            “Sorry,” he mumbled. The rain beat down on the glass as the wipers tried to wick it away – they didn't stand a chance. Lucy went on about her day but Jellal's mind was firmly stuck on a loop of _red_ and _freesia_ with the only break being the folded slip of paper burning a hole in his pocket.

* * *

 

            By the time Jellal handed the folded scrap of paper over to the guy at the door, ink was bleeding into the creases. Taking Laxus up on his offer hadn't actually been in the cards until he'd unfolded the paper and seen the symbol he now associated with The Dragon Slayers.

            The hooded man's face was mostly hidden by his drenched parka, but he had a very distinct dragon tail tattooed around his neck. Behind him, the door swung open, and a large man swaggered out into the night with the kind of authority Jellal recognized easily. His father was of the same arrogant cloth.

            “Is this how we treat guests?” the newcomer boomed, clapping a scarred hand on the hooded man's shoulder. “It's not every week we have both the son of Acnologia himself _and_ a Dreyar under our roof!” Only one person would refer to the Dragon Slayers so possessively.

            The hooded man shrugged and stepped aside as Igneel, Natsu's father, escorted Jellal into the building. Jellal didn't know what he expected, but _this_ wasn't it. The room was vast and open. At the far end was a bar, and directly to the left a churning crowd exchanged cash for what looked like bet slips.

            “Laxus isn't quite as green as he used to be,” Igneel said in Jellal's ear, just loud enough to be heard over the din of the room. “And I trust his taste in friends.”

            Jellal nodded, and wished his cigarettes weren't a wet lump in his pocket. He didn't have a clue why Igneel was speaking to him _at all_ , but he wasn't about to tell the man to fuck off. Not after what he'd seen in his own father's warehouse the day before. But if Igneel thought he had anything to do with the inner workings of Agnologia's cartel, he was wasting his own time. Igneel's iron grip closed around Jellal's shoulders as he guided him toward the bar where Laxus waited. The bartender stared openly at Igneel with a blank, waiting expression.

            “Mister Fernandes is my personal guest tonight. Serve him whatever he wants.” Igneel squeezed his shoulders once more before disappearing behind a door guarded by a man with a dragon tattoo on his forearm.

            “Better take him up on that drink,” Laxus muttered, nodding at the bartender. Jellal hesitated and decided a thorough _fuck you_ to his father was in order.

            “Single barrel bourbon,” he said crisply. “A double.”

            Jellal turned to lean against the bar so he could get a better look at the room. In the very center was an octagonal platform surrounded with deep black chain link barriers. Two young boys sprayed the mats with a yellow disinfectant and wiped everything dry with towels.

            A plastic cup appeared at Jellal's elbow, and he knocked back half the bourbon in one gulp. It tasted expensive. He'd never been happier to be drinking on someone else's dime. As he swirled the remaining amber in his cup, Jellal leaned into Laxus's side.

            “What the fuck did you get me into?”

            “He didn't spring that _'Be Our Guest'_ bullshit until the last minute. I just wanted you to see the fight.” Laxus scowled at his own cup. “And what the fuck I'm dealing with now.”

            Jellal shook his head and went back to watching the boys who were still spraying every surface of the cage.

            “Did you place a bet?” Laxus asked, far too casually.

            “Fuck no,” Jellal muttered, swallowing the rest of his bourbon. He _really_ wanted a cigarette. His hand fell to his pocket absently and he pulled out the wet mess of paper and tobacco. The pack landed on the bar with a slap.

            A heavy sigh came from the bartender along with a barely audible, _“Fucking kids.”_ Jellal's wet pack was replaced with a brand new one in an instant. He opened his mouth to thank the bartender but she just refilled his cup with another double serving of bourbon and waved him away.

            The first lungful of smoke always burned the most. Jellal relished every second. He exhaled and grinned. For the first time in days, his mood truly lifted. Laxus snorted and polished off his own drink.

            “You look like you just got the best blowjob of your life.”

            “I just appreciate the smaller things in life.” Jellal smiled and pushed off the edge of the bar. He took his cup in hand and eyed the room sharply. The air had changed. Something was about to happen.

            “It'll start soon. You sure you don't want in?” Laxus asked, nodding toward the bookie who still took wads of cash for bet slips.

            “I don't bet blind. Who's fighting?”

            “Dragneel.”

            “The old man? No way.”

            Laxus shook his head grimly. _“Natsu_. That fucking hothead is gonna get his ass beat.”

            “I doubt it,” Jellal countered. “I've seen him fight at school and he's pretty scrappy. What he lacks in skill, he makes up for in enthusiasm.”

            “Yeah, well –” Laxus was cut off by the screeching feedback of a microphone. The lights dimmed a little and Jellal noticed the row of mirrored windows that lined the wall above the bar for the first time. He had a feeling Igneel could see anything and _everything._ A voice boomed from the speakers and Jellal's ears rang.

            _“Last call for bets!”_ The crowd surged and pulsed. On the far left wall, a door swung open and a small cadre of inked Dragon Slayers surrounded a practically vibrating Natsu. His hands had been wrapped and he pounded his fists together gleefully. _“The Salamander versus –”_ Once Natsu reached the cage, the door swung open again as did Jellal's mouth. _“– The Titania!”_

            Her scarlet hair was twisted into a tight braid that coiled around her head and she made her way to the cage alone. Her eyes were cold as ice. _No one_ tried to touch or jeer her. Jellal whipped his head around to gape at Laxus, who only shrugged. Erza joined Natsu in the cage and she grinned wolfishly.

            “She looks like her mom when she does that,” Laxus said beside him. “Fucking terrifying.” Jellal finished off his bourbon and fishtailed through the crowd alongside Laxus. They didn't make it to the cage before the first punch was thrown.

            Erza moved with a deadly grace and deliberate purpose. Not a single flex of muscle was wasted. The bourbon started to blur the edges of Jellal's thoughts and his eyes struggled to keep up with her. Streaks of red darted across his vision and he felt an excited coil tighten low in his gut when her fist came away from Natsu's face bloody.

            Three more turns around the cage and Natsu was knocked to his back. His face was already starting to swell. Blood seeped from his nose and mouth. Erza circled him like a serpent waiting to strike. The countdown ended with a riotous cheer. Over the heads of the thin crowd between himself and the cage, he caught her eye. Even with a cumbersome mouth guard, Jellal knew a smirk when he saw one. He wasn't sure if it was _him_ or the _bourbon,_ but he winked at her and nodded toward the outside door.

            Laxus jabbed him in the ribs and grabbed the back of his shirt. Jellal watched as he traded a handful of bet slips for cash and headed for the exit. The night was deafeningly quiet though the rain still fell in sheets.

            “You're sister's a fucking killer, man,” Jellal slurred.

            “Stepsister,” Laxus corrected. “And it's not hard to guess where she gets it.”

            “The scary MILF?”

            “Something like that.” Laxus beyond the cover of the awning and glanced down the ally. “Keep an eye out for her. I'm gonna grab my car.” He glanced over at Jellal who was having trouble fishing the dry cigarettes from his pocket. “You're drunk. How'd you get here?”

            “A car dropped me off.” Jellal clicked his lighter three times before successfully lighting the end of his cigarette. “You think I'm bringing my car down here? Fucking crazy.”

            “You're a real dick, you know that?” Laxus pulled his keys from his pocket. “I guess I have to take your sloppy ass home. Wait here for Erza and I'll be back.”

            _“Erza –”_ Jellal said to himself as Laxus jogged out into the rain.

            “What about me?” Her breath tickled his ear and when he turned his head she was right there. His heart skipped about three beats. It hurt like nothing else.

            “So are you a dragon, or do you just fight like one?”

            “That's a pathetic pickup line.” She glanced around, and Jellal watched the drops of water leaking through the awning splash on the red hair still coiled around her head. “Where's Laxus?”

            “Getting the car.”

            “I told him not to park so far,” Erza sighed. She turned back to him and pulled the hood of her jacket over her head. “I've never seen you here before tonight.”

            “You haven't lived in Magnolia long enough to see me anywhere but school and the odd encounter riverside.” Jellal's thoughts were clearing now that he was free of the churning crowd.

            “Fair enough.” Her eyes strayed out to the dark ally once more before she smiled – not a smirk or a grin, a _smile._ “It's simple enough to change that, though.”

            Jellal flicked his cigarette butt into the rain and stepped between her and the coldest gusts of wind coming in from the storm. “It's _not_ simple.”

            “No?” Erza let her bag fall to the ground and rolled her shoulder. Her fingers dug into what he assumed were sore muscles.

            “Your mom is married to my enemy,” he said firmly, still moving toward her in a round about way.

            “A daughter by marriage is out of bounds, but a friendship with a blooded son isn't?” Erza's eyes weren't cold like they'd been before. She appeared soft now. His interest in her tightened its claws around his neck.

            “It's not a good idea.” Without his permission, his hand rose to a loose wisp of hair clinging to her forehead. Jellal's fingertips lingered on her cheek, and when she didn't move at all, he met her eyes. “It's actually a _terrible_ idea.”

            “But?” Erza's question came in a breath, and Jellal could not stop his lips from seeking hers.

            “I have a penchant for bad ideas,” he whispered as he kissed her. Erza's lips tasted like sweat and mint gum. Her fingers tightened in the front of his shirt and Jellal clutched at her waist. She didn't kiss like she fought, no; Erza bowed into him and let him take. He wanted to untangle the braids around her head and get his fingers in her hair but there was no time – _not now_. His tongue pressed gently on her bottom lip as Laxus's headlights swung around the corner. Erza groaned softly but still stepped away.

            Jellal leaned down to grab her bag off the ground and swung the strap over his shoulder. Erza didn't say another word to him as she took shotgun and Jellal sat in the back. Laxus bitched about free booze the entire ride back to the cluster of streets Love and Lucky called home.

            “You can walk from here,” Laxus barked. The rain was still falling when Jellal slammed the car door shut. Laxus was gone before he could even consider trying to catch a last glimpse of Erza.

            With still-tingling lips, Jellal walked home. Kissing her had probably been his worst idea since cleaning himself up, but he didn't regret it in the slightest.

He cut across an apartment complex and slipped through the gates barring Love and Lucky. Had he been even slightly more sober, he'd have taken note of the oddity of an unlocked front gate and front door – but he didn't.

            _“Jellal,”_ his mother hissed as he closed the front door behind himself. “This city is _dangerous_ after dark.” She pulled her robe tighter around her body and glowered at him. “I know you know these things!”

            Jellal shrugged and tried to step around her. Anna's hand shot out to grip his wrist tightly. Her eyes pierced him in the low light of the foyer.

            “You're drunk.” She released him with a disgusted sound and stepped back. “Go to bed. We'll discuss this in the morning.”

            Anna disappeared up the stairs and left him alone in the dark, but Jellal still couldn't find any shame inside of himself. The scalding hot water of his shower beat into his back. All he could think about was sweat and mint gum.

            _And red._


	6. Chapter 6

            His legs were twisted in the sheets and his hair pointed every which way against the pillow. Part of her wondered why he'd never bothered with more tattoos – and another part of her didn't wonder at all, because the reason was obvious. Jellal hated the one he had already; why would he mark himself with more? Anna gently fingered the tufts of blue that hadn't been combed before he fell into bed.

            In a way, she'd been relieved her son only came home _drunk_. He hadn't nodded off in the middle of breakfast covered in a sickly sweat, or forced himself through a family dinner with trembling hands and his fork knocking the plate, in a year. He no longer hid out in his room for hours at a time with a locked door. The habit of disappearing for days only to return with dead eyes was long gone. Anna hadn’t ever been able to bring herself to search his room – like perhaps a better mother would've – but she knew. She _knew_ about his dance with Acnologia's ouroboros dragon.

            Jellal had been lucky enough to have a friend to grab him by the scruff of his neck and keep him from tumbling into total darkness, but Miss Milkovitch's hands weren't entirely clean. How could they be, when they'd been the ones to usher him through the door to begin with?

            He stirred and rolled over to his back. Anna smiled sadly when his eyes slid open.

            “Good morning,” she said quietly. Jellal ran his hands over his face and sat up. His expression was sheepish.

            “Mom –”

            “I'm not going to ask where you went, Jellal. Just promise me you're always safe.” _Safe_ was such a subjective word for someone his age. She hoped he knew she meant everything from condoms to needles, though she didn't actually think needles were Jellal's delivery method of choice. Or maybe that's what she'd convinced herself, because his arms lacked scars. Some mother she'd turned out to be.

            Anna handed over a bottle of water she'd brought from the kitchen. Jellal unscrewed the plastic top and sucked half of it down before meeting her eyes.

            “Mom, I know I've been –” His eyes darted around the room and he sighed. _“Erratic_ in the past. I'm sure I've scared you and I know I've scared myself. For what it's worth, I'm sorry.”

            “When you were small, I used to chase you around all day. Lucy would sit quietly and color or dress her dolls, but you?” Anna laughed and smoothed her hand over the mess of sheets. “You were into _everything._ Tablecloths, trash cans, boxes of cereal, even the baskets of clean clothes. Nothing was out of bounds. I craved the quiet, but you were always the most unpredictable when you were quiet.” She met his eyes and couldn't hide her own sadness – she didn't want to. “Last year you were quiet, Jellal,” Anna whispered. “I never heard from you until there was already a mess.”

            “I'm sorry, Mom,” he whispered. “I'm better now.”

            “I worry about you more than I worry about your father.” She tried to smile. “You're going to turn my hair grey before I reach forty.”

            “I promise I'll always come home.”

Anna's hand touched his cheek and brushed her thumb over his tattoo, swallowing back the tears that threatened to choke her. He'd made an impossible promise. She could feel it in her chest. “There are a lot of dark closets in this house, little starboy. Don't get lost.” She stood, a sudden movement, and headed toward his bedroom door. “Lucy is already dressed for school. Let's close out the week on a high note, yeah? This weekend will be long.”

            “Long?”

            Anna shook her head and opened the door to leave. “The Cherry Blossom Festival, Jellal. Did you truly forget? Dress quickly. Lucy doesn't want to be late.”

* * *

 

            Jellal's eyes scanned the parking lot and hallways of Saint Fabrizio's restlessly. His skin crackled with anxiety. Ultear quirked an eyebrow as she passed by him but he didn't stop his prowl. A voice on the loudspeaker announced the end of morning Mass and Jellal's heart galloped. The minutes before the bell were melting away.

            Frustration bubbled over as he reached the quieter end of the wing near the library. Jellal caught the scent of freesia just as a hand seized his and pulled him into a cove behind a service stairway. Her hair was down. His fingers immediately tangled in ribbons of red. Erza gazed up at him with hungry eyes and tugged on the collar of his button-up shirt.

            “Kiss me,” she whispered. Jellal wasted no time. He backed her against the boxes of textbooks and took her lips with thoroughness there hadn't been time for the night before.

            Erza was an exciting contradiction. He'd watched her transition from terrifying ferocity in the cage to pliant beneath the dripping awning only moments later. She was clever and witty and cut him no slack in conversation. She demanded kisses of him, but parted her lips with only a gentle brush of his tongue. Jellal wasn't sure if he was pushing her or if she was pulling him – but he was _very_ sure he didn't care.

            Unwilling to let go of her hair, he dropped only one hand to her waist and then further down when her knee lifted to press a thigh into his. Her skin was soft, and the thrill of knowing powerful muscle lurked beneath made his heart race and pulled him in further. Erza gasped when he squeezed her thigh. He couldn't help smiling against her lips.

            “I don't do this,” she murmured, turning her head slightly away to catch a breath. Jellal moved to her jaw and neck. She smelled, and tasted, better than any high he'd ever ridden. His fingers tightened in her hair.

            “Do what?” he asked between kisses.

            _“This,”_ Erza insisted, still not letting go of his shirt collar. “I don't pull people into corners and – and –” she cut off and exhaled against his chest. The sound of her sigh sent a pulse of wild desire through every inch of his body. He wanted her like he'd never wanted _anything_. Jellal's hand breached the hem of her skirt as he sucked lightly on her neck. His head felt fuzzy, and he only vaguely registered the final warning bell. Erza pressed herself flush against him when his fingers brushed the edge of her panties.

            The thunderous sound of footsteps on the stairs above them jarred his brain back to reality. He pulled away from her neck and blinked. Her cheeks and lips were a very enticing pink. Jellal yanked his hand out from under her skirt and tried to think past the cloud of freesia and all that _red_ in his brain.

            “I’m sorry,” he said in a horrified whisper. “That was… a _lot._ I don’t really do that either.” Not at school anyway.

            “It's my fault,” she stammered. “I grabbed you and pulled you back here.” Erza ran her hands over the front of her shirt and straightened her skirt. “I should go.”

            “Wait,” he blurted, grabbing her hand. “I didn't – I mean, I'm not –” Jellal let go of her hand and stuffed both of his into his pockets for his own good. “I'm sorry for trying to get under your skirt.”

            Erza smiled and he caught a glimpse of the warrior he knew she kept inside. “You didn't do anything I didn't _allow.”_ She stepped close to him again and tidied his collar. He couldn't take his eyes off her and understood her to mean she’d have happily injured him if she hadn’t wanted it, too. “Listen, I know the lines and boundaries are out of your control, but I like you. School is maybe the worst place for us besides your front lawn.”

            “It is,” he whispered, daring to remove his hand from his pocket to touch the hair clinging to her shoulder. “My family is part of the Cherry Blossom Festival this weekend. I don't know what you'll be up to, but Fairy Tail is our competition, with their open bar and indie brewer tastings. Maybe you could...” he trailed off and stared at the curl of red around his finger.

            “Slip away?” she finished for him. Her hand closed over his and he let her lace their fingers together.

            “Yeah.”

            “I'll see what I can do. Where will you be?”

            “I know every inch of this city,” Jellal said with a mischievous grin. “Let _me_ find _you.”_ Erza squeezed his hand and stood on her toes to kiss the corner of his mouth.

            “Tomorrow then,” she whispered. “Try not to get into too much trouble in the meantime.” After she disappeared around the corner of the stairwell, Jellal groaned and slumped against the stack of boxes. The freesia scent she seemed to always carry with her and the image of her hair twisted around his fingers lurked at the edges of his thoughts. Carrying on a regular day of school seemed impossible now.

            Jellal left the library stairwell behind and stalked his way to another set of stairs. The roof and his stashed pack of cigarettes were a necessary detour. He needed to process what had just happened, and temper it with a burn in his lungs.

* * *

 

            Saturday morning was bright, and for once there was a genuine smile on Acnologia's lips. He held out his hand for Anna as she stepped from the black car after it came to a stop along the riverwalk. Jellal followed suit and rolled his sleeves up above his elbows before offering his arm to Lucy. His father shook hands with business colleagues and his mother made friendly banter. For a brief moment, Jellal could pretend they were a happy, _normal_ family.

            “Do you think Natsu will be here today?” Lucy asked quietly as he steered her away from schmoozing adults. He never felt more like an entitled brat in undeserved spotlight than in public settings like the Cherry Blossom Festival.

            “No clue.” Her smile faded a little. “You don't know? Aren't you two... whatever you are?”

            “He wasn't at school on Friday,” she said with a frustrated blush. “I'm sure you don't know anything about that do you?”

            “Not a clue.” He smiled down at her. “I'm sure he'll pop in, Lucy. Especially if you've been going on about the festival with him as much as you do at home.”

            “You're such an ass sometimes.” She released his arm. “I'm going to help your mom and see if Natsu turns up. Do you think it'll scare him off if I'm with her?”

            “Nah,” Jellal's eyes scanned the riverwalk. “Natsu doesn't scare easily and he's got nothing to fear from my parents.”

            Lucy disappeared back the other way, and Jellal dug his pack of cigarettes from his pocket. The breeze off the river carried the scent of the ocean. He alternated lungfuls of smoke and wind. Before reaching the end of the pier, he crossed the street and circled back around the block. Fairy Tail usually sponsored the independent brewer's guild. Maybe he'd luck out and find Erza somewhere on the strip of restaurants and bars one street over.

            “You should be less obvious,” a distinctly unfeminine voice said from behind him. Laxus's expression was one of annoyance.

            “What the fuck are you talking about?”

            “Don't play dumb with _me,_ asshole. I know about you and Erza.”

            Jellal shrugged and took a deep drag off his cigarette. “What _about_ me and Erza?”

            “Look,” Laxus growled. “It's not my business and I'd like it to stay that way. Be careful.”

            “Aw, Dreyar, I didn't know you cared that much.”

            “I fucking _don't._ The circle of shit I care about ends abruptly at the edge of my circle of control. Erza won't listen to me and stay the hell away from _you_ , and I sure as shit know you won't listen to me and stay the hell away from _her.”_ Laxus kept his gaze ahead. “Keep yourselves low and leave me the fuck out of it. I have enough.”

            “Noted.” Jellal held out his pack of cigarettes. Laxus didn't even glance down as he took not one but three.

            “She's at Raventail on the corner waiting for you. Don't get caught.” Laxus abruptly stopped walking and glanced up and down the street before crossing. Jellal didn't watch him go.

* * *

 

            He found her leaning against a corner post of the rails surrounding Raventail's beer garden. She curled a strand of hair around one finger and appeared to be watching people wander past. Jellal stepped behind her and hooked his fingers through hers. She turned her head slightly toward him and grinned.

            “I was wondering when you'd show,” Erza said softly. She spun around and let him pull her behind the hedge. “Laxus knows.”

            “I saw him earlier.” Jellal's arm circled her waist. “And I don't care.” He brushed his lips over her flushed cheeks before kissing her lips. “Do you?”

            “No.” If Erza minded that his hands ruined the perfect gloss of her hair, she didn't say a word.

* * *

 

            They sat on the end of a smaller pier away from the crowds. Her fingers traced up and down his forearm. She fit against his side more perfectly than anyone else ever had – and he tried not to think about who all had been there because, truthfully, he couldn't exactly remember. His time under the influence of little ouroboros stamped bags was becoming an unintelligible blur. Instead, he focused on the present, and what was beginning to matter to him a great deal.

            “What's it like living in one place all your life?” she asked, leaning her cheek on his shoulder.

            “Boring,” he said with a soft laugh. “Nothing ever changes. Except you.” Jellal turned and kissed the top of her head. _“You're_ new.”

            Erza's voice was quiet. “Is that why you like me? Because I'm new?”

            “No. I like you because you make me feel like I don't need anything else.”

            “Jellal –” She paused and finally looked up at him. “I need you to be honest with me about something. I wasn't making fun of you that day by the river when I said you looked like shit. I _have_ seen that look before and I know what it means.” Her eyes drew him in, and he found he couldn't lie to her. Not about _that._ Lies hadn’t ever served him well.

            “When I was fifteen,” he started slowly, carding through his memories, “I realized some things about my family.” Jellal sucked in a slow breath before shifting his body toward her. “Not my family, really, mostly my dad.” He opted for the simplified version and left Lucy’s parents out of it. “I don't know what happened to Love and Lucky but he started selling what he now calls his _conejo blanco.”_ Erza quirked an eyebrow. “It means his white rabbit.”

            “I didn't know you spoke Spanish,” Erza said with a small grin.

            “I don't – not fluently.” He reached over to brush a fringe of hair from her face. “I was lost for almost a year and a half, Erza.”

            “And now?”

            “I haven't touched anything in months. I have a friend who helped of me off it.”

            “Ultear Milkovitch?” Jellal blinked in surprise and Erza bit her lip in a grin. “My mom is big on observation. I admit I've an eye on you.”

            “Yeah, Ultear. It's complicated.”

            “Life is complicated, Jellal. We all have secrets.”

            “Tell me about you.” Now that the weight of the truth was off his shoulders, he could smile easier. “How on earth did you wind up the stepdaughter of Ivan Dreyar?” Erza laughed, and her eyes wandered out to the river.

            “I don't ask my mom why she does the things she does. I think if she were any less cunning we'd still be – well,” she glanced over at him and smiled. “Not _here.”_

            “Do you talk to your dad at all?”

            “I don't even know his name.” Jellal's eyebrows shot up and Erza shrugged. “Mom says he's trash and I believe her. She supports me in _everything.”_

            “Like cage fighting?” he asked, leaning closer.

            “I'd probably be stuck beating the hell out of a bag in the Fairy Tail gym if she hadn't cornered Laxus.” Jellal laughed. “He's afraid of her, I think.”

            “Should he be?” The thought of Laxus cowering at the feet of a woman amused him immensely.

            Erza met his eyes squarely. “Yes.” Her lips betrayed a smile. “So should _you,_ to be honest.”

            “Is there a graveyard of ex-boyfriends somewhere?”

            “No, she wouldn't put in that kind of effort for something so trivial. I worry her in other ways.”

            “I think everyone worries their mother at some point. I'm surprised mine lets me leave the house at all anymore.”

            “I'm glad she does.”

            “Aren't you worried?”

            “About what?” Erza pulled his hand into her lap. The tips of her fingers traced over the lines of his palm. “Your family? The one my mom married us into? I couldn't care less.”

            Jellal's eyes fell to the edge of the pier. Erza's toenails were painted a burned topaz color, and every time she swung her legs back and forth over the water, the sunlight caught in flecks of glitter.

            “The sun is setting,” he said, wishing they had more time.

            “I should go,” she whispered before he could get the words out. Jellal stood and pulled her to her feet. In the vibrant light of the sunset, her hair was glorious. The sight of it burned itself right onto his soul.

            “Will you be back tomorrow?” He hoped the question sounded casual even though it wasn't.

            “I think I could arrange that,” Erza said with a grin he wanted to see much, much more of. She stepped into him and kissed him goodbye.

            Jellal was too distracted to notice Lucy's foul mood or his mother's stiff expressions. Acnologia wasn't present for the car ride home.


	7. Chapter 7

            Eileen used the antibacterial soap first. She always defaulted to the amber colored bar after an encounter with Ivan before using the more indulgent soaps she kept in her bathroom. Men like her husband couldn't be simply washed away – they had to be _scrubbed._

            He'd been in an annoyingly good mood after the first day of the Cherry Blossom Festival, and his hand on her thigh during the car ride back to Fairy Tail made his intentions clear. Ivan wasn't the _worst_ lover she'd ever had, but he was a far cry from the best. She thought maybe after this marriage had run its course she would wash her hands of men completely.

            When the last of the soapsuds circled the shower drain, Eileen wrapped her body in a towel with a sinfully dense loop count. Her hair clung to her shoulders in crimson ropes. She wondered if Ivan realized how lucky he was that she let him touch it – or _her_.

            The steam quickly dissipated when she stepped from the bathroom. Unsurprisingly, Erza was stretched out across her bed with a ridiculous smile on her lips. She curled a strand of the beautiful scarlet hair inherited from Eileen and sighed. One day her daughter would learn the cruelty of love – a lesson that can only be properly absorbed after a tumble from the heights of exhilarating bliss. Eileen didn't wish heartbreak for Erza but the fall was inevitable. Boys, like the one her daughter was surely thinking of, were mercurial creatures. It was a risk to trust them with _anything,_ much less a heart.

            Her daughter was the one thing Eileen had done absolutely right, and she would cover her body in more jagged scars just to keep her safe. _Vanity be damned._ She hoped Acnologia Fernandes's son was better than his father.

            “I know that look,” Eileen said airily. She sat on the edge of the bed and began to work a dollop of conditioner through her hair. Erza grabbed a brush from the side table. There wasn't anyone else Eileen would trust with her hair.

            “He excites me.” Erza sighed and began to brush. “Not like fighting. This is different.”

            “Erza, love –” Eileen paused. “Be careful. He's broken.”

            “I know, Mom.”

            “Once a man has been a broken by addiction, the pieces don't always fit back together just right.” Eileen tried to keep her voice light and reached for the bottle of lotion. “You can't _fix_ people.”

            Erza said nothing as she continued to run the brush through Eileen's hair. Her fingers were firm but gentle as she twisted the conditioned strands into a braid. When she finished she joined her mother on the edge of the bed.

            “Jellal isn't like Belserion.”

            “Addiction has many faces.” Eileen turned toward her daughter and smiled. “Be careful, sweet. That's all I ask.”

            “I want to see him again tomorrow.”

            Eileen's stomach twisted uneasily. There'd been something in Ivan's eye earlier when he fucked her on the edge of his desk. Something dark and gleeful. It didn't scare her, but the warning bells were ringing. She leaned over and pressed a kiss to Erza's forehead.

            “Keep your eyes open,” she whispered. Erza's eyes searched her face, and Eileen didn't hide anything.

            “What's going on, Mom?”

            “I don't know yet, love. Just be careful and –” Eileen hesitated, the words on the tip of her tongue. She didn't want to say them. “If you _must_ trust someone, trust Laxus. He isn't his father.”

            “Jellal isn't his father either.” The wide honesty in her daughter's eyes broke her heart. Oh, to be so young and trusting again.

            “Get some sleep okay?” she whispered, brushing Erza's hair from her face and shoulder.

            Once Erza had gone, Eileen slipped her nightgown over her head and brought the braid her daughter made over her shoulder. From the row of windows in her bedroom suite she could see the entire south side of Magnolia, right up to the harbor. The view from Ivan's office was more dramatic but Eileen preferred her own.

            The air had been charged all afternoon. Ivan seemed to take a salacious joy in wandering up and down the riverwalk unchecked. She knew the lower section of the river and most specifically the harbor wasn't his territory – not that he'd ever _told_ her that. The Dragon Slayers' hold on the south side of Magnolia had been firm before Eileen had been old enough to learn her own lesson in love and pain.

            Returning to Magnolia hadn't been entirely calculated, but in hindsight, Eileen could see how easily the puzzle fit together. Her husband would spend the second day of the festival pretending he had an interest in beer while eyeing the shadows and alleys. Erza would be relatively safe in the arms of young love. Eileen had other plans. She needed to pay a visit to someone she hadn't seen in a very long time.

* * *

 

            In the daylight the building looked ragged and, to an untrained eye, possibly abandoned. Eileen knew better. She forwent the chained doors and rounded a corner. Her eyes scanned the alley and she climbed a set of stairs that probably hadn't been seen by a city inspector or a fire marshal since before she'd left Magnolia. The metal creaked when she reached the top landing. Eileen absently touched the feathered bangs on her forehead and smiled for the camera she knew was watching. The fire escape door swung open and she smirked.

            “Answering your own doors now? How the mighty have fallen.” She flipped her sunglasses up to rest on the top of her head and stepped into the building.

            “I was wondering when you'd _lower_ yourself to come see me,” Igneel said, unable to hide his smile. “I can't exactly march into your husband's hotel to see _you._ ” He led her down a short hallway and into an office. The far wall was lined with windows she knew were mirrored. Below she could see the empty octagonal fighting cage.

            “How does my daughter fare in your ring?” Eileen asked with interest. Igneel laughed and leaned against the edge of his desk.

            “She's making hamburger meat out of my best guys. My own son got the TKO treatment.”

            “How is he?”

            “Natsu? He's fine. I doubt he learned his lesson, though. The kid's got a head made of rocks.”

            Eileen smiled softly. “That isn't what I meant.”

            “He knows,” Igneel sighed. “I can't keep it from him. He doesn't look like me or have my name. It doesn't change anything. I've raised him as my son and that's what he is.”

            “You were always a softie.”

            “Ellie –” he whispered.

            “No one's called me that in a long time,” Eileen said, still smiling.

            “I'm sorry I couldn't –”

            “There was nothing you could've done differently, big brother.” She reached up to touch the scarred skin of his neck. “I made my own way, though. I have Erza and that's what's important.”

            “She looks just like you.”

            “She deserves better than that bastard's face. Besides –” Eileen's smile turned playful and she flipped her crimson hair over one shoulder. “We both know which of us got the better genes anyway.”

            “Still obsessed as ever with your own hair, I see. Some things don't change.” She felt his eyes on her as she circled his office. A black box on the table behind the sofa sat with its lid half hanging off. Her finger brushed over the rows of little bags. Quick as lightning, she snatched up a handful and held them out to him.

            “You're pulling a pretty basic scam. Anyone with half a brain would realize both stamps lead back to the same place.” Igneel shrugged.

            “Only needs to fool one person. Your husband was away from home for a long time. I've been busy redrawing the lines of this city. Acnologia claims he wants to restore Love and Lucky. I'm lending him a hand.”

            “Is he trustworthy?”

            “No.” Igneel took the bags from her palm and returned them to the box. “His mouth may want to repair his wife's family name, but his greedy heart wants power. The clash with his in-laws was messy.”

            “Did you light the fuse?” she asked casually. The theater still stood as a charred monument to death.

            “I didn't.” Igneel slid the lid over the box and exhaled slowly. “Jude Heartfilia wanted to blow Love and Lucky wide open. Given time, I think there would've been proper business between Fairy Tail and the Heartfilias. Their current business ventures would’ve been lucrative for both parties.”

            “And Acnologia didn't care for that so he blew Jude open instead?”

            “His ego demands a throne, not a bargaining table.”

            “Then why are you working with him?”

            “Because I promised Anna.” Igneel's eyes softened and fell to the floor. “I told her I would _try.”_

            “And when you can't keep your promise? What then? You need a lesson in letting go, big brother.”

            “Maybe it's _you_ who needs a lesson in what's worth holding on to,” he snapped. Eileen clasped her hands in front of her and shook her head slowly. “Anyway, I don't care about Acnologia. His time will come. I'm more interested in his son and the niece.”

            “You seem to have an interest in the children of your enemies,” Eileen said in a whisper.

            “Laxus came to _me._ I didn't lure him in. He wanted to fight so I let him.” Igneel spun on his heel and stood in front of the row of windows. “That kid's got a lot of rage.” He glanced back at her over his shoulder. “It doesn't take a genius to guess why.”

            “And Jellal?” Eileen couldn’t help her curiosity.

            “He's not a fighter. Not like Laxus or Erza. The only person he battles is himself.” His hands slid into his pockets and he turned back to gaze down at the room below. “He was here the other night.”

            “Why?”

            “He and Laxus have a friendship. They left together after Erza fought Natsu.”

            “He saw my daughter fight?” Eileen's lips curled into a grin. Igneel laughed.

            “I think he enjoyed it. I suspect Erza has him on a chain already.” He sighed and his shoulders fell. “Why did you come back with a Dreyar ring on your finger, Ellie?”

            “I needed him to do something for me and he had a price.”

            “You could've contacted _me.”_

            “I've grown up, Igneel. I have my own arsenal.”

            “Ivan Dreyar is a dangerously sloppy sociopath. Old man Makarov got tired of cleaning up his messes and cut him off.”

            “Men like Ivan set fire to their own houses while still in them. I believe you know the type.”

            “You're an expert on men now?” Eileen's grin was sharp and Igneel actually took a step back. _Good._ He needed to see her for what she was, not as his little sister.

            “No, I am _the_ expert.”

            “You've got a plan, then?”

            “I'm working on it. I won't get in the way of whatever you and the Heartfilias are doing. I want Fairy Tail. It's wasted as a front for the Dreyar cartel. You and Acnologia can pillage its basements or you can build a shrine to your childhood love for the blonde girl from the nice part of town, I don't care. The hotel is mine. I'm tired of shadows and the petty games you men play.”

            “And Laxus?”

            “He can do what he wants.” Eileen shrugged. “He has no interest in the hotel for now. Not really.”

            “No?” Igneel quirked a curious eyebrow.

            “No.” She laughed and fluffed her hair. “He wants to be free of the shackles of his family. Well, _that_ and he wants to romance a pretty bartender his grandfather hired. Sneaking around isn't enough for him.”

            “He told you all that?”

            “He doesn't have to. It's written all over his face. He won't stop me from taking the burden of the hotel.”

            “You're aiming to be an honest woman, huh?”

            “I've always been honest, Igneel. I can't help it if no one truly listens.” Eileen reached up to tidy the collar of her brother's shirt. “You grew up handsome,” she whispered.

            “Ellie –”

            “I'll tell Erza who you are, if you want. She needs a bigger family.” Eileen swallowed her emotions and stepped backward toward Igneel's office door. “I hear your son has an eye for the Heartfilia girl. Our children have that family in common. Perhaps it'll play into your vicarious fantasies of things lost.”

            Without waiting for him to wish her a goodbye, Eileen made her exit. On her way out of the building she heard the sounds of shouting.

* * *

 

            Erza's finger hooked in his belt loop and Jellal brought her against his body. His brain screamed at him that they were in public and they still needed to be careful. Most of the crowd had gathered at the riverwalk for the tree lightings. Once the sun set, the sakura trees that lined the river would be lit with multi-colored strings of twinkling lights.

            “Are you sure you don't want to see the cherry blossom trees?” Jellal murmured against her lips. “They won't be lit again until next year.”

            “I don't care about the trees,” she whispered. Erza pulled back from him, her eyes wide and uncertain. “I think I'll always want more time with you than I'm allowed.”

            He brushed his thumb over the edge of her bottom lip. The sound of screams from the beer garden and beyond shattered the moment. There was a sickening squelch around the corner and in the street. Erza moved to look but Jellal grabbed her arm.

            “Don't,” he whispered. “None of this sounds good.”

            “No,” a gruff voice said from behind them. Jellal spun around and Laxus's face was a study in rage. “It's not fucking good.”

            “What's happening,” Jellal demanded.

            “My piece of crazy shit father,” Laxus spat. _“That's_ what's happening.” His eyes fell to Erza. “We need to leave. _Now.”_

            “But –”

            “Your mom will flay me on the front steps of Fairy Tail if I don't get you the hell out of here. I can't be here either.” Laxus glared at Jellal. “You should split. If he finds you –”

            “He won't.” Jellal pressed a kiss to Erza's forehead and left her with Laxus before he couldn't.

            The crowd in the street was growing but he caught a glimpse of the commotion. Two bodies were splattered on the sidewalk directly in front of Raventail. He recognized what used to be the face of a Dragon Slayer. The young man's nose was broken and eyes bloodied, but his facial piercings remained. He'd been stripped of a shirt and the gunmetal grey dragon tattoo on his back had been shredded – the blood was bright red. Jellal didn't need to wonder if he'd been alive when the design was desecrated.

            Underneath the top body was another. Copper red hair mixed with blood on the concrete. Jellal didn't recognize it but the hand poking out from under the ruined Dragon Slayer was smaller, daintier. His stomach lurched and Jellal turned away. He sprinted down the street and circled back around to the river walk. Sirens could already be heard in the distance.

            Jellal saw his mother first. She clutched the top of the car door with white knuckles and her eyes searched the crowd frantically. His hand closed around her wrist and Anna burst into tears as she jerked him against her.

            “Goddamn it, Jellal,” she sobbed. “I thought –”

            “No,” he panted. “It wasn't me.”

            “Get in,” Acnologia's voice boomed from the car. “He's fine.”

            Anna kissed his cheek hurriedly and ducked into the long black car. Jellal followed suit and Lucy clutched at his arm as soon as he slid into his seat. Her eyes were wide and she bit her lip harshly to keep back her tears.

            “What happened?” she whispered.

            “Someone threw a couple of bodies off the roof of Raventail.” Jellal glanced at his father whose eyes darkened. “They were Dragon Slayers. At least one of them was, anyway.”

            “You saw?”

            “Yes.” Jellal watched Acnologia sink back into his seat and gaze out of the window. He wanted to demand to know what was happening, but he didn't dare ask. Such questions would lead to more questions, and he didn't want to expose Erza or Laxus. Lucy's fingernails dug into his arm. Feelings of powerlessness overwhelmed him. The demon on his back cackled.

            He needed a cigarette for the first time since that morning.


	8. Chapter 8

            The glass cake dome in the kitchen was empty and Eileen didn't have to wonder why. She found Erza eating in bed – and suspected the slice on her plate hadn't been the first. Her cheeks bulged but there was no satisfaction on her face. Eileen crossed the bedroom and gently pried the plate from Erza's hands. Her daughter swiped at tears and choked back the mouthful of cake.

            “Have we reached this point again?” Eileen asked quietly, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

            “I wasn't going to purge it, mom,” Erza whispered. “I just needed a distraction.”

            “How many pieces?” Her eyes searched Erza's face as she sniffled and hiccupped.

            “Five,” Erza muttered. Eileen sighed and reached over to brush away the tears dripping from her chin. “I'm sorry. I guess I'm broken, too.”

            “Oh, love, I shouldn't have said those things. It's _me_ who owes _you_ an apology.” She pulled Erza into a hug and smoothed her fingers over her daughter's hair. “You aren't broken.”

            “Today started out good but I've never seen Laxus so upset. There was nothing I could do.”

            “Is it only Laxus you're worried about?”

            “No.” Her voice shook. “I'm worried about Jellal.” Erza sat back and Eileen could see the fear etched on her daughter's face. “I'm afraid for _you.”_

            “Save your fears for the boys, love. _I_ am the one person you never have to worry about.”

            “But Ivan –”

            “Is still just a man. I will handle him.”

            “Like you handled Belserion?”

            Eileen smiled and pressed a kiss to Erza's cheek. “Let me worry about that. We'll be safe.”

            “And Laxus?”

            “Laxus, too.” Eileen peeled the wisps of scarlet off Erza's forehead. “There's something else I need to discuss with you, Erza. It’s about Igneel and the Dragon Slayers.”

            “Oh, Mom, I already know. He’s your brother or something, right? You have the same smile and –” Erza picked at the blanket and finally smiled sheepishly when Eileen quirked an eyebrow. “I found your picture box before we moved. There was one of you and him together. I didn’t realize until I saw him in person.”

            “That was a very old photo. I’m impressed.”

            “Between the picture, the way you knew to ask Laxus about the cage, and the _overly-gracious_ way he accepted me with no questions at all... it was obvious, Mom.”

            Eileen laughed softly. “Your observational skills are above reproach. Igneel is my brother. Be careful with that information, sweet.”

            “Is Natsu my cousin, then?”

            “Natsu is...” Eileen trailed off and her smile fell. “Natsu is the child of someone else. I never asked for details because it wasn't my place, but family isn't always defined by blood, Erza, he _is_ your cousin.”

            “I kicked his ass in the cage.”

            _“Good.”_ Eileen's lips teased a smile. “Humility keeps men on their toes.”

            “I'd like to talk to him sometime if that's okay? I've never had an uncle before.”

            “He'd love it. Your uncle and I are very different people, but he’s worth your time.” _He's got a heart that still beats properly._ Eileen forced herself to swallow the past for the second time that day and stood. “I have some business to attend to. Will you be alright?”

            “I'm fine.” Erza smiled but it didn't quite reach her eyes. “No more cake.”

            “Goodnight, love.” Eileen took the plate with her when she left Erza's room.

* * *

 

            Ivan's unrest radiated through the door of his office, but Eileen joined him anyway. He didn't pace. He didn't slump in his chair. He didn't drink or smoke or dip into the stores of stamped bags beneath the hotel. Ivan stood utterly still in front of the floor-to-ceiling window that boasted a beautiful view of the city and upper river. His silhouette was harsh and dark. Eileen's jaw flexed. The hourglass she'd flipped on the marriage before he'd even slid a ring on her finger was running out of sand.

            “You made quite the scene today,” Eileen said, closing the door behind her.

            “Just taking out some Dragon Slayer trash,” he muttered, not moving from the window. Eileen considered the decanter of whiskey but passed it over. She would not drink _anything_ that came from his office.

            “Was it necessary to throw them from a roof? So messy.”

            “You have the weak stomach of a woman.”

            Eileen's eyes drilled into his back. She very much wished the last grains of sand had already fallen, but she needed to be patient. “My stomach is of no consequence, husband. The traitors could've been dealt with more quietly.”

            “I wanted to send a message that reached all the way down to the harbor.” He spun around finally and she didn't flinch when his gaze fell on her. “And anyone in between.”

            “Such as?”

            “Love and Lucky,” Ivan said with a flippancy that annoyed her. Everything about him _annoyed_ her. “And perhaps closer to home.”

            “Do you think the Dragon Slayers to be so bold as to have an ear inside Fairy Tail itself?”

            “My own son would betray me if offered the right bribe.” Ivan sneered. “He was raised by my father, I know he has no loyalty to his name.”

            “Laxus is a boy,” Eileen said, approaching Ivan with a grin she knew he favored. “He's seventeen and doesn't think with the head mounted on his shoulders.”

            “For a woman so cunning, you're blind to the most obvious things.” Ivan's hand slid under her robe and over her shoulder. His thumb grazed the peak of one breast before he grabbed her elbow and pressed her against the window glass.

            Ivan wasn't gentle but his grip was nothing she hadn't expected. The mouth that had once pleased her enough to be trusted with the death of her last husband now left kisses along her spine. It took every measure of control not to cringe.

            “I will root out every rotten link in this chain,” Ivan whispered as he grasped her hips. “Blood or no. I will cut out the rot.”

            Eileen left a smear of lipstick on the window. It would mar his view and it pleased her to do it.

* * *

 

            Anna woke in her marriage bed alone. She hadn't actually expected Acnologia to join her – not after the incident at the Cherry Blossom Festival – but his absence alarmed her all the same. The sun rose as if nothing had happened. As if two people hadn't been mutilated and thrown off the roof of a bar in the middle of Magnolia's biggest annual event. In truth, Anna couldn't muster a whole lot of grief for the victims. She had her own set of very personal worries. Lucy had been by her side for most of the afternoon but _Jellal..._ her son continued to be a source of anxiety.

            She wrapped her robe around herself quickly and found both Jellal and Lucy having breakfast in the kitchen just like any other Monday morning.

            “You're going to school?” Anna asked, horrified at the sight of them in their Saint Fabrizio's uniforms.

Jellal's expression was deadpan. “Why not? It's not like gang violence is anything new.”

Lucy had the courtesy to look abashed. “I could stay home if it makes you feel better,” she offered softly. “I don't mind.” Anna put on her best smile. Her _fakest._ Worrying Lucy was last on her list of things to ever do.

            “It isn't your job to comfort me, Lucy. If you feel better going to school, you should.” She took their empty plates and left them in the sink. The kitchen staff would handle it, but doing such a small thing made Anna feel at least a _little_ useful. Jellal's phone blared an alarm and he pulled it from his pocket. The edge of his pack of ever-present cigarettes caught her eye, but Anna said nothing.

            “Later, Mom,” Jellal muttered stuffing the last triangle of toast into his mouth. He and Lucy disappeared into the hallway.

            “Be safe,” she whispered to an empty kitchen.

* * *

 

            By the time Anna perched on the edge of a perfectly made bed, she'd showered, dressed, and blow-dried her hair to a perfect golden gloss. Her manicured nails dug into her knees and she sucked in a deep breath. Acnologia had been away for much longer periods of time – just never without leaving Love and Lucky. Her heart thudded violently in her chest as she pondered all the possibilities.

            When the bedroom door swung open suddenly, Anna jumped. Her husband stalked across the room, shedding his clothes piece by piece. He didn't spare her a single glance. She waited as he showered and tried to conjure up words that would be placating but still glean information. The chance to speak never came because after his shower, Acnologia fell into the bed without drying his body or dressing. Both frustrated and disgusted, Anna folded the blankets over him and left the room.

            Her feet took her to a closed door. A door she had heavy trepidation over opening. Her hand felt clammy with sweat as she reached for the doorknob of Acnologia's office. Shockingly, it wasn't locked.

            The office was a mess. Ledgers and files were strewn across the desk and various, smaller tables. His laptop had been left open. Decanters of dark liquor were nearly empty and the glasses dirty. Anna crossed the room and her fingers traced the pattern carved into the edge of the desk. The entirety of it was in dire need of dusting.

            She fell into the office chair, glanced over the mess on the desktop, and _scowled_. Even with only a cursory inspection Anna could tell her husband had become sloppy in the space of just a few weeks. Legal documents regarding the new bourbon venture were mixed up in his business with Igneel at the harbor. In her mind she pictured the new bottles dusted with the very same white powder that had nearly cost Jellal his life. She _hated_ the overlap. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. Igneel was meant to be the guiding hand and, over time, wean Acnologia off the cartel so he could focus on the new brewing. The projections prepared by Jude were solid, and in only a few years of financial austerity they could've been completely above board. _Jude._ _Layla._ Anna's heart sank. She didn't like to consider the possible correlations, but the time for it was long overdue.

            Anna pulled open the lap drawer and her stomach dropped. Straight to the floor, it fell just as the bodies thrown from the roof of Raventail. The drawer was a mess of empty bags and a fine dusting of cocaine. She grabbed a pen from the desktop and poked around, unwilling to touch anything. When the roll of latex tourniquet came into view, Anna slammed the drawer shut. She didn't need to see the rest. Everything made sense now. His paranoia, the odd hours, his mood swings. The familiarity of the behavior stung, and Anna became _angry._

            Her husband had first made an addict of her son, in all likelihood murdered her sister, and now his greed threatened to bring them all down. Love for a man who no longer existed had made her blind. Stupidly and _dangerously_ blind.

            Anna stood and snapped Acnologia's laptop shut. His time as the head of their family had come to an end.

* * *

 

            Acnologia slept until the sun disappeared behind the skyline of Magnolia. When he rose, his eyes were bloodshot and he sucked down an obscene amount of water. He showered again and then stripped the bed. Anna left him to his chaos and waited in the kitchen for him to discover she’d had the locks changed on all the business office doors. When she heard the sound of his heavy footfalls heading toward the kitchen, she steeled herself.

            _“Anna,”_ Acnologia barked. “Would you mind explaining to me _why_ I am locked out of my _own_ office?”

            “I had the locks changed,” she said, quieter than intended.

            “Why?” He looked to be on the very edge of sanity with his wild hair and red eyes.

            “Because I no longer trust you to have our best interests at heart,” Anna quipped, setting aside her glass. “Love and Lucky is in shambles. I had one look at that office –”

            “It is _my_ office!” His booming voice echoed off the walls and floors of the kitchen. _“No tienes derecho!”_

            “Love and Lucky is _mine,”_ Anna snapped. Her heart raced with an adrenaline-fueled boldness. “I let you take my share because it pleased you to have control. I trusted you and now you’ve steered us aground! You’ve tainted even the new brewing venture with your cartel dealings and that’s unacceptable to me. I’m taking charge now.”

            “Anna,” Acnologia said with a calming breath. He stabbed the kitchen counter with one pointed finger. “You cannot possibly understand all of the things that I have sacrificed for this business. I have stood on this bottom rung for _you!_ For _Jellal!_ And now this? You would lock me out? This is _not_ a marriage!”

            “It stopped being a marriage when Jellal nearly killed himself with _your_ product and you did nothing to stop it,” Anna hissed furiously. “It stopped being a _marriage_ when you _murdered my sister!”_

            “Jude wanted to ruin me!” he yelled, no longer caring about volume. “I did the hard work he thought himself too good for! Layla’s death was beyond my control if I wanted to stay out of prison! You say I have steered us aground but it was _me_ who kept us from sinking all this time!”

            “Acnologia –”

            “He wanted to write Jellal out of everything! He wanted to deny his involvement with the Dragon Slayers and the cartel and lock me up just to make sure _no one_ had any say in Love and Lucky except for Lucy! He even sequestered the girl in this house so he could groom her for it!” Acnologia’s face crumpled from anger into something broken. “He wanted to destroy this family. I did what I had to do for _us._ And yet here you are, tearing holes in our ship. _Why,_ Anna?”

            “I sat by and watched my mother hand over the business to her favorite daughter’s greedy husband,” Anna whispered. “I didn’t like it but I said nothing. I said _nothing_ for the sake of _peace._ I watched while you and Jude bickered for years and years, poisoning everything.” Anna took three steps toward Acnologia. Despite having showered twice that day, he still reeked of sweat and alcohol. “Now I’m watching you burn it all down. _Literally._ No more. Love and Lucky is mine on paper and now in practice. I will take the helm now.”

            “You can’t throw me out, Anna,” he whispered. “I _love_ you. You are my _wife._ ”

            “You need help.”

            “Anna –”

            “Jellal is clean now. You will be too. Then we can discuss the future.” The words felt bitter on her tongue, but denouncing everything at once felt counterproductive given his current state.

            Acnologia inhaled slowly, his face a twisted mess of warring thoughts. When he finally blew out a breath, he spun on his heel. The kitchen fell silent when Anna spotted Jellal at the mouth of the hallway. He met his father’s eyes, and then glanced over at Anna before pursing his lips and disappearing back down the hallway.

* * *

 

            “Shouldn't you be with Erza doing whatever it is you do in the library hall where you think no one can see you?” Laxus muttered, not turning away from the chain link barrier surrounding the roof of Saint Fabrizio's Academy. Jellal dropped his bag and pulled a fresh pack of cigarettes from his pocket. Laxus puffed on something that definitely wasn't tobacco – the smoke was far too thick and pungent.

            “She has a study group and I needed a moment of your time.”

            “Everyone is so fucking concerned with my time lately.” Laxus blew a white cloud from between his lips and glanced down at his joint. “Goddamn, I'm a sloppy roller.”

            “It's not your fault,” Jellal said cheerily, filling his lungs with a delightful burn. “You obviously don't know any better.”

            “You're an asshole.”

            “Not news. You've been quiet these last few days and I've never known you to get stoned before school in the middle of the week. Besides the obvious, what's up with you?”

            “Just trying to stay below the radar. My dad's lost his goddamn mind, apparently.” Laxus poked his joint against a link of metal to nudge the ash away. “He's all but accused me of treason.”

            “What are you gonna do when he finds out about that tattoo on your back? Do you have a plan?” Jellal flicked his half-finished cigarette through the links and glared at Laxus. “I still can't believe you let them mark you up. Did you see those bodies? Because I fucking saw those bodies. They were _mutilated._ ”

Laxus suddenly turned, his face a study in rage. “Of course I saw them,” he hissed. “I saw them before, during, and after. He made me watch. I understand every shred of what's at stake, Fernandes. _All of it.”_

            “Let me help you.”

            _“How can you possibly help me?”_ he exploded. “Everything's gone to shit.”

            “We'll go to Igneel.”

            “Oh wow, yeah, that's genius. We'll go to a gang leader with sloppy spies and who hangs out in your dad's back pocket. What a great plan.”

            “I don't know who's in whose pocket anymore,” Jellal muttered.

            “What the fuck are you talking about.”

            “My mom busted my dad with a drawer full of shit on Monday. Tourniquets, fine powder, needles. He made a scene in the house and _god_ it was pathetic.”

            Laxus blew a low whistle. “Yikes.”

            “He's been sleeping ever since. I think he put himself in a liquor coma or something. Mom seems to think he'll be more reasonable when he wakes up but –”

            _“You_ know that's bullshit.”

            “Of course it's bullshit. He'll wake up an even bigger mess than before.” Jellal snatched Laxus's joint and sucked on the end of it. The thicker smoke made him want to cough but he held it in for a long moment before exhaling. “Look, does Igneel seem like the type who'd willingly work with a loose canon like my dad? I've met the guy _once_ and he didn't strike me as anything other than clean and calculating.”

            “You sound like Ultear.”

            “Maybe she's rubbed off on me. I'm serious, though. Something's not right.”

            “Nothing in this world is right.”

            Jellal rolled his eyes. “Spare me your poetic wax. We'll go to Igneel on Thursday.”

            “Erza isn't fighting,” Laxus muttered, putting out the joint and sealing the roach in a baggie.

            “Why?”

            “I don't know. She's been sick or something. Ask her about it.”

            “Sick? She was fine earlier this morning.” Jellal's entire train of thought derailed.

            “It's not my fucking business.” Laxus turned to vacate the roof. Jellal grabbed his bag and followed.

            “Regardless, Igneel will be around tomorrow night, right? We'll speak to him then. I think he wants it.”

            “Fine,” Laxus bit out. “But it'll be late. I'm taking Erza's place in the cage.” Jellal barked a laugh and followed Laxus through the door.

            “You haven't fought in over a year.”

            “I can still kick _your_ ass.” Laxus suddenly stopped at the top of the stairs leading back down into the school. “Oh wait, you've never set foot in the cage. Silly me.”

            “I have a prettier face than you,” Jellal muttered. “And I have nothing to prove.”

            “Listen to that backpedal.” For the first time since before Ivan had come back to town, Jellal heard Laxus _truly_ laugh.

* * *

 

            Stripes of sunlight across a shaded corner of South Gate Park illuminated an already brilliant scarlet. Her fingers slid through the blades of grass at her side and over the pages of her book. She didn't glance up when he dropped to the spot next to her, but smiled instead.

            “You're late.” Erza closed her book and wasted no time tucking herself into his side and under his arm. “I was about to leave.”

            “No you weren't,” he said quietly, moving in to kiss her neck. “You were oblivious to the world before I sat down.”

            “Maybe I was a _little_ distracted.” She turned his cheek with her hand and planted her own kiss on his lips. “Is everything okay?”

            “It is now.” His fingers seemed to have a special skill for finding their way into Erza's hair. It was easy to get lost in spending time with her even as the rest of his life fell spectacularly apart. He hated to ruin it. “About tomorrow night –”

            “I'm going with Laxus but I'm not fighting,” she interrupted quietly. “I need to see Igneel about something.”

His eyebrows flew up. Erza continued to surprise him. He couldn't imagine what kind of personal business she'd have with Igneel. Jellal stuffed his curiosity away. "Why aren't you fighting?” He studied her face. When she met his eyes, Erza sighed.

            “I've been under a lot of stress lately. What happened on Sunday made everything at home pretty tense.” Erza paused and her eyes fell to the unbuttoned collar of his uniform shirt. “Sometimes when I'm feeling stressed out I make bad food choices.”

            “Bad food choices? Like junk food?”

            “Yeah.” She cleared her throat and ran her fingers along the hem of her skirt. “Like too much of it or too little food period. It's a bad habit of mine.”

            “And it's affected your body to the point where you don't want to do something that makes you happy?”

            “I'm just feeling tired. I took some vitamins this morning and my mom made me a protein smoothie. I didn't want to freak you out or anything. It's not a big deal.”

Jellal frowned. He wouldn't push her but the subtext of her words was upsetting. “Laxus says he's fighting,” he said, changing the subject. She finally laughed.

            “He just wants to punch something. I can't say I blame him.” Erza looked up at him again and smiled. “Are you coming? If I'm not fighting we can spend time together in a safe place.”

            “Yeah, I'll be there.” Jellal breathed in the faint scent of freesia that always hovered around her. “Do you feel safe with the Dragon Slayers?”

            “I do.” Erza shifted and wrapped her arms around his middle.

            “Is there a particular reason why?”

She tilted her head up and kissed the line of his jaw. “Ask me again tomorrow night, okay?” Jellal tilted his head down and touched his forehead to hers. “It'll be a lot easier to explain.”

            “I trust you,” he whispered. Erza's fingers clenched in the front of his shirt. He desperately wished they weren't in the park. Her grin promised trouble.

            “I told Laxus to pick me up over by the bakery,” she said, her lips brushing against his. “Maybe you should drive me there.” Jellal pulled back an inch. “So I don't have to walk? Be a gentleman, Jellal.”

            Erza suddenly stood and brushed the stray blades of grass from her skirt. She bent down to grab her bag and he caught a glimpse of a pair of striped panties. Jellal didn't need a better reason. He jumped to his feet and grabbed her hand.

            “I suppose I can be a gentlemen,” he said quietly in her ear.

            Jellal's car was something Laxus called _impractical,_ but Jellal preferred _fun._ The powder blue convertible had been a gift from his mother on his fifteenth birthday. He'd never been more grateful for the back seat bench than when Erza grasped the lapels of his collar again and straddled his waist. She kissed his neck with unexpected fervor.

            “Erza,” he gasped, enjoying her weight over him but keenly aware the top was still down. Even if the rainclouds weren't gathering, they were _exposed._ “The roof.”

            “Mm, what about it?” she asked, her kisses migrating from his neck to the unbuttoned collar of his shirt.

            “There's a button on the dash.” His hands steadied her hips as she straightened and twisted to lean over the front row of seats and hit the button. Within seconds the roof closed over them and Erza's lips split in a grin.

            “I saw you running today,” she whispered, returning to her kisses.

            “Running?”

            “In the big gym. You were running up and down the bleachers.”

            “Sister Helena caught me smoking and thought it would be a fitting punishment.” His fingers inched under her skirt and found the edge of her panties.

            “I agree with her and thoroughly enjoyed watching you sweat.” She nudged his nose with hers before stopping just short of his lips. “I've been thinking about it all day. It was very _frustrating.”_

            “I can help you out with that.” He wanted her to kiss him. He wanted to get his hands past the barriers of her underclothes. He just _wanted._

            “I hope so. Usually fighting is a good release, but not this week.” Erza finally kissed him and closed the gap between them. The tips of his fingers brushed over the strip of fabric between her legs. Jellal didn't wait to push her panties aside, and her gasp was encouraging.

            Erza's eyes slid shut and her forehead pressed against his as her hair shrouded his vision. She was wet and smooth and his fingers easily found purchase. His thumb circled fast then slow and Erza's sigh against his lips was the most illicit sound he'd ever heard. Her thighs trembled and the hand not between her legs closed around the swell of her backside.

            With no warning, Erza yanked the tails of his shirt free and broke the button at the waist of his pants. He could not stop the groan that clawed its way from his throat when she closed her fingers around him.

            “Erza, you –” She silenced him with a wet kiss and her other hand tightly clenched in his hair. He almost – _almost –_ lost track of his mission. Jellal twisted his wrist and found a spot inside of her that made her moan and squeeze him damn near painfully. She rocked her hips against his fingers and mimicked the rhythm with her hand.

            Jellal hadn't been with anyone since before he'd begged Ultear to help him get sober. He tried to scale back his fall from the edge Erza held him on, but found he could not. She intoxicated him with her mint-flavored lips, a cloud of freesia, and curtain of red. There was nothing else for him beyond the back seat of his car. Her teeth sank into his bottom lip and when he throbbed into her hand, she clenched around his. Jellal's breaths came fast but she kissed him slow.

            “That was better than a fight,” Erza muttered against his lips. Jellal opened his mouth to respond but a clap of thunder cut him off. “I think we ran out of time.”

            “Only until tomorrow.” Jellal, regrettably, recalled his hand, but not before squeezing the swell of her ass. Erza kissed him once more and slid off his lap, allowing him to sit up. Rain pelted the convertible top as Jellal reached over the seats to dig for his keys. Instead, he found his phone and rolled his eyes at the four missed called from Laxus.

            “Is he mad?” Erza asked as she readjusted her panties and crawled over the seat.

            “Pissed is a state of being for him,” Jellal muttered. There was no way for him to gracefully climb over the seats like Erza, so he had to brave the rain. His pants threatened to fall and he finally registered that she really _had_ torn the button off.

            Jellal slid into the driver's seat and Erza smiled at him. He was wet and cold and would be on the receiving end of Laxus's ire, but he couldn't find it in himself to care.


	9. Chapter 9

            Jellal met the driver's eyes in the rearview mirror but didn't say a word before stepping from the car into the rain. The two-block sprint from the corner to the hooded man outside the building left him nearly drenched. Spring in Magnolia could be fresh and dewy or cold and dismal – there was no in-between.

            Inside, the gathering crowd pulsed with excitement. A different pair of boys sprayed and scrubbed the cage just as diligently as the others. Before Jellal hunted down Erza, he made a detour to the bookie. He traded a wad of cash for a handful of bet slips and decided he'd personally kick Laxus's ass if he lost.

            Erza sat on the edge of a stool and appeared to be in an animated discussion with the same bartender who'd remained stoic and annoyed on his last visit. As soon as Jellal approached her and touched the small of her back with his hand, the bartender scowled. He didn't order a drink, but a double of single barrel bourbon was pushed across the bar anyway. The bartender moved away from them—not before winking at Erza.

            “She's got a winning personality,” Jellal muttered, knocking back half of the bourbon. Erza chuckled quietly and spun around on the stool to face him.

            “Minerva is perfectly nice. She just doesn't care for men.”

            “Then what's she doing tending Igneel's personal bar?”

            “I'm sure that's none of our business.” Erza ran her fingers over the wet fabric that clung to his chest. “Did you walk all the way here?”

            “Nope.” Jellal polished off the last of his bourbon. “I just ran a few blocks. I'd never risk bringing the driver all the way here and I'm for _damn_ sure not bringing my own car.”

            Erza quirked an eyebrow. “It's not obvious to them where you're going?”

            “There's a million little pockets of trouble to be found on this side of town. All they can do is guess.”

            “Laxus says it’s stupid to maroon yourself out here.” She grinned and flattened her hand on his chest. “He says you’ve got a hard on for your car.”

            _“Laxus_ drives a junker and doesn’t understand my struggle. I’ve already learned what happens when I take my car into the hovels of Magnolia.” Jellal's palm slid over her thigh and stopped at the hem of her dress. He leaned in between her knees to kiss the edge of her jaw. “You look _amazing.”_

            _“You_ look like trouble,” she said with a soft laugh. Jellal pulled back, but not entirely. His hand didn't leave her thigh. He'd much rather have a brain full of freesia than the stench of smoke and sweat that hung in the room. From the corner of his eye, Jellal noticed more than one glance in their direction.

Erza followed his gaze and grinned. “We attract attention.”

            “I doubt anyone gives a fuck about me.” He squeezed her leg and fingered a strand of her hair. “It's you.”

            “They're _afraid_ of me. Your friend won't fight me because he says he doesn't hit girls.” The corner of her smile twitched. “He's lying, though. I think he just doesn't like fighting.”

            “He doesn't.” Jellal nodded at the bartender for a refill. “Erik's been a member for as long as I've known him. The day he gets in the cage is the day he's lost his mind.” Erza pursed her lips but didn't press for more information. He suspected she was well versed in secrets and minding her own business. “Who's Laxus fighting?”

            “Someone with a very hard head.” She laughed when he snorted. “He's challenged me to a rematch every day this week.”

            “Dragneel likes to learn the hard way.”

            “I don't mind teaching him.” Erza's hand slid over his shoulder, and the tips of her fingers edged under the collar of his shirt. He stepped back into her and fit his arm around her waist. “Laxus isn't in a teaching mood, though. He'll come out swinging.”

            “Laxus isn't interested in playing the game. He's got no subtlety.”

            “He doesn't need it. He's a brute. I wouldn't fight him even if he'd consider it.” Erza kissed his neck and flicked her tongue over the still damp skin. “You taste like the rain.”

            Jellal raised an eyebrow but before he could respond the din of the crowd swelled. Natsu bounced to the cage but Laxus stalked. He stepped inside like a storm cloud looming on the edge of a city. His eyes were dark, and the thick muscles of his arms bunched and bulged. Laxus had always been larger than Jellal, but in the cage he appeared positively gigantic. Natsu grinned despite his mouth guard, but Laxus betrayed nothing. The sound of an air horn ricocheted off the walls of the room. Before the reverberations cleared Jellal's ears, Laxus struck.

            As children, Jellal had seen Laxus fight more than once in the schoolyard. He was a boy prone to fits of temper and easily goaded into scuffles. Laxus was bigger now and a hell of a lot more powerful. Frustrated rage oozed out of every pore on his body.

            For two rounds, he toyed with Natsu. He took hit after hit but never flinched. Jellal returned his attention to Erza, who accepted a red cocktail from the bartender. She sipped from the cup and adjusted her body against his when he leaned comfortably backward against the bar. His fingers twisted absently in her hair. He'd lost interest in the fight despite having money on it.

            “What is he _doing?”_ she griped, tapping her finger on the sweating cup. Jellal sighed.

            “He's fucking with Natsu. His life is out of control, so he's taking his petty swipes where he can. I doubt Natsu even knows he's doing it.”

            Erza scowled and flipped her hair out of his grasp irritably. “It's childish.”

            “You fight with clean efficiency.”

            “I fight to _win,”_ she snapped.

            _“Laxus,”_ Jellal continued, unperturbed, “is fighting because he's in a bad mood and wants to hit things.”

            “He's going to lose.” She finished off her drink and set it aside. Jellal laughed and leaned in very close.

            “You're aggressive when you drink,” he whispered.

            “You have no idea.” Erza smiled and relaxed a little. The air horn rattled the walls again. Laxus circled the cage with renewed purpose. His shoulders were stiffer and his feet moved quicker. He flexed his fingers – as much as he _could_ flex them wrapped as they were – and Jellal thought for sure he saw him grin before his left shoulder snapped back and his right fist shot out to catch Natsu's jaw.

            The hit took Natsu by surprise, and he hopped backward to steady himself. Laxus granted him _no_ quarter and stepped in the moment Natsu moved. He switched his stance and his left hand surged forward. Before Natsu could recover, Laxus landed four successive hooks. Natsu swayed left, then right. His hand reached for the side of the cage, but he missed by several feet and toppled to the mats.

            An eruption of shouts filled the room. Erza said nothing. She spun back around on her stool to the bar where Minerva already had another cocktail and bourbon waiting. Jellal watched her gulp the contents with incredulity.

            “You're setting a stiff pace,” he said.

            “I still need to talk to Igneel.” Erza plucked the lime wedge from the rim and bit into it. “I need a little encouragement.”

            “It's that serious?”

            _“Yes.”_ Erza slid off the stool and grabbed his arm for support. Laxus appeared at Jellal's side with an icepack on his face.

Jellal almost burst into laughter. “That ice pack is dramatic.”

            “I'm not looking to have a swollen face in the morning. He got several solid hits on me,” Laxus growled.

            “He wouldn't've if you'd been less of an arrogant ass.”

Erza's criticism fell on deaf ears. Laxus jerked his head toward the door Jellal knew led upstairs. “Let's get this over with,” he said with a clenched jaw. Erza's hands stayed wrapped around Jellal's arm as Laxus led the way to the door. Without prompting, the guard swung it open and nodded them through.

            The narrow hallway ended abruptly at a set of stairs that led directly to a door which stood cracked open. Laxus didn't hesitate to enter the room. Igneel's silhouette was black against the row of windows. His hands were clasped behind his back, and he didn't turn until Jellal pushed the door closed. He smiled and focused on Erza first.

            “I wondered how long it would take you to approach me,” he said, in a voice softer than Jellal ever expected from a man like him. “Did Ellie tell you or did you guess?” Jellal felt Laxus's shock rolling off him at the use of such a familiar nickname.

            “I guessed,” Erza replied. “You look like her when you smile. Before we moved I found some old pictures and to be honest –” She faltered before grinning sheepishly. “You were way too quick to let me in here.” Igneel laughed and shook his head.

            “I underestimated you, Erza, and that was clearly my mistake. I should've expected nothing less than razor-sharp observation from my sister's daughter.” Jellal glanced over at Laxus, whose jaw would've been on the floor if it weren't attached to his skull. Igneel's grin widened. He gestured to the couches opposite one another in the office. “Have a seat, all of you.”

            Laxus continued to brood in the shadows by the door, but Jellal – relaxed with too much bourbon and not enough dinner in his system – fell into the cushions next to Erza. Igneel took a seat opposite. He pushed an envelope across the table between them toward Jellal.

            “Your winnings,” he said smoothly. “I believe you bet on Laxus earlier this evening?”

Laxus snorted loudly and moved to the row of windows. _“I don't fucking bet,”_ he mimicked under his breath.

Jellal grinned and folded the envelope into his pocket without counting the contents. “No,” he corrected, sliding his arm around Erza's shoulders. “I said I don't bet _blind_.” Erza sighed impatiently. “I knew you'd win.”

            “The friendship you have is interesting,” Igneel remarked, relaxing back against the sofa. “This city has very few arms stretched across the divide.” He paused and drummed his fingers on the cushion. “The gap grows wider every day.” Jellal released Erza and leaned forward on his knees.

            “I was hoping to speak to you about my father,” he blurted. For an instant he regretted the bluntness but the feeling didn't last. “He's using.”

            “I'm aware of his habits.” Igneel said in a very direct tone that Jellal felt all the way in his gut. “My stamp, the ouroboros stamp – doesn't matter. I'm aware of where and how _all_ the product moves.” His gaze didn't waver, and Jellal understood his words to mean he knew of both Acnologia's use and his own.

            “I don't like it. Love and Lucky can't be what my mom wants if he's allowed to continue.”

Igneel leaned forward and never dropped his eyes. Jellal could feel Erza's tension radiating into his side. “There's going to be a whole lot of stuff you don't like in this world, Jellal. This city is very much like a chessboard.”

            “That's all fine and good when the other pieces follow the rules,” Laxus objected from behind them. “My dad doesn't give a fuck about any of that. You're thinking in terms of predictable play, and he's slicing motherfuckers up and throwing them off the roof.”

            “The loss of Gajeel and Flare was unfortunate,” Igneel acquiesced with a nod. “But they knew the dangers.”

            “Fairy Tail is a fucking _hotel!”_ Laxus barked. “There shouldn't _be_ any _dangers!”_

            “I might be able to solve your Acnologia problem,” Igneel hedged. Jellal wondered what Igneel _wasn’t_ saying. “But it’ll take some time. A big move like that can’t be on impulse.” Igneel’s gaze was calculating, and it was all Jellal could do not to squirm. “I want you to understand something, Jellal,” he said in a tone that made Jellal’s stomach flop over. “Your father is in a dangerous place right now. This isn’t something that should be left to the children to handle.”

            “But…” Jellal trailed off when Igneel shook his head in protest and stood abruptly.

            “I’ve got some pieces in play already. I want you kids to stay out of it.” He moved toward a different door than the one they'd entered through.

            “Cryptic bullshit,” Laxus fumed. “What am I supposed to do about _my_ dad? Wait until he finds this shit on my back?”

            Igneel pursed his lips grimly. “I’ve been assured of certain things in that regard, Laxus. I can’t say anything beyond that.”

            Jellal's pocket started to vibrate. He sighed and fished out his phone. He'd missed a number of texts during the fight and he frowned as he glanced over Lucy's messages – each one more frantic than the last.

            “I gotta go,” he said slowly. “Something's wrong.” Laxus turned from the window and nodded stiffly.

            “I'll drop you close by. Erza, you coming?”

            “Yeah,” she said quietly. Erza stood and smiled at Igneel. “Maybe next time we can talk? Just us?”

            “Anytime, Erza.” His returning smile was genuine, but he visibly froze when Erza hugged him on impulse. If Jellal hadn't been so rocked by Lucy's bizarre messages, he'd have been more moved by the scene of Igneel reluctantly embracing a niece he'd never truly known. Instead, his palms itched and he wanted to _leave._

            Erza released him, still smiling, and took Jellal's hand. The upper hallway wasn't as dark as the staircase and the exit door waited at the end. Jellal scrolled through the texts again and tried to get a straight answer from Lucy, but she wasn't responding.

            _“Fuck,”_ he muttered.

            “What's wrong?” Erza asked.

            “It's Lucy. Something's wrong at home.” Laxus glanced back at him over his shoulder and Jellal shrugged.

* * *

 

            The rain still fell from the sky when he left Laxus and Erza behind. Love and Lucky's front gate stood wide open, and a sliver of yellow light from the front door cut through the darkness. He whispered a string of curses as he slowed to a walk and approached the door.

            Jellal's eye caught on the car that had driven him to the harbor. It sat empty in the circle driveway like an abandoned carcass. Just under the portico, he paused with the intention of sending Laxus a text message but his phone screen was dark – battery life or water damage, he didn't know. It wouldn't have mattered anyway because the phone fell from his fingers at the exact moment a fist made contact with his jaw.

            The bite of the only Fernandes crest ring this side of the ocean gave his assailant away.


	10. Chapter 10

            His fingers scraped over the flutes of the portico column. He never expected to hit the ground – but he did. Over and over. He bounced off the concrete porch but his head still rang from the punch so he tumbled down the steps and onto the wet cobblestone of the driveway. Jellal's head throbbed, his hands stung, and his knees positively _screamed._

            Acnologia's booming voice was half-drowned by the thunder. His hands closed in the front of Jellal's shirt and he dragged him to his feet.

            _“How long?”_ he shouted directly into Jellal's face. Despite the bourbon still swimming in his system and the ringing in his head, Jellal wrapped his hands around Acnologia's wrists.

            “You're fucking wasted,” he growled. _“Pathetic!”_

Acnologia's eyes lit with rage. "You would know what wasted looks like,” he said in a low voice. “Wouldn't you?”

            “Where's Mom?” Jellal demanded. “Where's Lucy? What the fuck is going on?”

Acnologia released him and Jellal stumbled back. The sound of manic laughter filled the driveway and courtyard, and echoed off the house. _“What's going on?”_ he repeated back, amusedly baffled. “My _son,_ my own flesh and blood, has been sleeping with our enemies.”

Jellal blinked. He glanced over at the car again and realized how fucking stupid he'd been.

“Or haven't you fucked her yet?” Acnologia snarled, taking another swing. Jellal was prepared this time and dodged. “Are you fucking the Dreyar boy too? I wouldn't be surprised.”

            “You don't know what you're talking about.” Jellal ducked under Acnologia's arm and made for the house.

            “Don't I?” Jellal was jerked back by a hand in his collar. The sudden constriction of his throat made him gag. He jammed an elbow into Acnologia's ribs and whirled around in an attempt to push the man to the ground.

            “You're ruining this family, _Dad,”_ he spat.

            “This _family_ would be ruined _without_ me.” Acnologia's fist snapped forward again and Jellal tried not to catch it, but the hit landed on his cheekbone. Jellal's elbow hit the cobblestone and a groan clawed its way from his throat as he rolled to his back. “Your mother's sister and her husband wanted to dilute us with _garbage.”_ Acnologia dropped to the ground and held him down while trying to regain balance. Jellal recognized the red-rimmed eyes, and in the dark of night and rain, his skin was ghostly pale.

            “Who’s _us?”_ Jellal demanded. “You aren’t even a Heartfilia!”

            “How long have you been betraying me?” Acnologia hissed.

Angry, lost, and broken, Jellal smiled. “All my life,” he breathed. He didn't fight back when his father pulled him up by the shirt and slammed his back against the cobblestone. “All my life I've known you were trash, and I have done _everything_ in my power to hurt you.” The lie was sharp on his tongue but the truth cut deeper. He'd loved his father once, and that loss left him empty and craving something new.

Acnologia seemed to expect this response. His fist tightened in Jellal's shirt. “You're _not_ a Fernandes.” His words were nearly eaten by the rain. “I will slice that mark right off your face.”

            “I never wanted to be a Fernandes anyway,” Jellal said on the edge of a hysterical laugh. He craned his neck up to level his gaze with his father's. “I'd rather have a fucked up face than _anything_ to do with _you.”_ He didn't see the knife until lightning illuminated the sky. Acnologia's expression was a picture of hell-bent, manic wrath but he hesitated with the blade. _“Do it,”_ Jellal urged. His mind was already in a loop of pain he hadn't felt yet. He _wanted_ it.

            “Stop this!” Anna's voice from the porch rattled in Jellal's skull. Acnologia froze, the knife still in his hand. “This has gone far enough.” Though the rain had a din all its own and she stood several feet away, Jellal recognized the click of a round shifting into place. “You will release my son.”

            “He's all yours.” Acnologia flipped the knife away from Jellal's face and stood. “I'm not surprised you'd defend him, _mi amor._ Traitors defending traitors.”

            Jellal stood and tried not to sway. He didn't believe for a second his father wouldn't try and strike a second time.

            “This family is no stranger to betrayal.” Anna's jaw flexed at his words and Jellal's heart raced. The air crackled with something terrible. Something _deadly._ “Everyone has always been against me. _I_ did all the work. _I_ brought us from the debt.” Acnologia breathed heavily. _“You should be thanking me!”_

            “Thanking you?” Anna asked. She stood under the portico, and though she was sheltered from the rain, her cheeks were streaked. “Should I thank you for burning my sister?”

            “Your sister –”

            _“Was family!”_ Anna screamed. The gun shook in her hands. Jellal's eyes slid up the side of the house and thought he saw the curtains shifting in the Palladian windows that overlooked the driveway and courtyard. “You burned the theatre to the ground over _business!”_

            “Did Igneel tell you that?” Acnologia's voice was low and malicious. Jellal swallowed his shock and inched a wide berth in an attempt to join his mother under the portico. He knew all too well what a man strung out on righteous lies and white powder was capable of. _“¿Me traicionarán todos?”_

“Make your accusations,” Anna cried. “Nothing I've done puts me on your level.” She lowered the gun and Jellal sucked in a breath. He knew the second she took her finger off the trigger it was the show of weakness Acnologia had been waiting for. Quick as a snake, he struck.

            Acnologia lunged across the driveway and toppled Anna to the ground. The knife that he still clenched tightly in his hand settled on her throat and the gun went sliding across the concrete. Jellal blinked. The bourbon had slowed his reactions but he managed to snatch up the gun before it was rendered useless by the rain.

            “Everyone in this house beds down with the enemy,” Acnologia growled. His nose touched Anna's and his hand against her neck shook. “You've broken my heart.” A drop of blood slid over the side of her neck, and Jellal made a decision.

            He was surprised his mother had chosen the Desert Eagle. It was a heavy weapon. Not easy to control or fire on the fly. Perhaps she'd chosen a firearm to match her determination. The magazine floated perfectly. The tang felt at home in his hand. Jellal wrapped a supporting hand around his other and crossed his thumbs. With a readied push and pull of force, Jellal pointed the gun at his father's shoulder.

            The sound of the bullet firing out of the barrel and into Acnologia's body wasn't as loud as he'd expected but it tore through the night all the same. Jellal watched as his father slumped to the side. Anna scrambled away from him clutching at the split skin of her neck. Acnologia's eyes met Jellal's and he laughed even as he choked on blood. The bullet had only skimmed his shoulder but lodged in the curve of his chest.

            “Betrayal,” Acnologia croaked. “It runs in this cursed blood.”

            “Just yours,” Jellal whispered, only loud enough for him to hear his own words. He fired the gun again on a whim and the recoil nearly knocked him off his feet. His aim was poorer than the first shot and missed both Acnologia's chest and head, but left his shoulder and neck in splattered bits.

            He stared at the body and the blood dripping over the edge of the concrete stairs to mix with the rain. A firm hand pried the Desert Eagle from his fingers and, though she was still bleeding, Anna turned him away from the body to pull him into an embrace.

            “Are you okay?” he breathed. The world felt thin. Anna pulled back and took his face in her hands. She wiped the rain and blood from his cheeks with her thumbs.

            “Are you?” Jellal tried to glance over his shoulder, but her grasp on his face was solid. “Don't look. It's over.” She blinked, and tears fell from her eyes. “It should've been me to do it. The mother should protect her children, not the other way around. I'm sorry.”

            “I couldn't let him hurt you.” Jellal lifted his hand to the cut on her neck. The bleeding had already stopped.

            “Jellal,” she said sternly. His eyes focused on hers. “I love you.”

            “I love you too, Mom.” In a show of broken weakness he hid his face in her shoulder. He couldn't remember the last time he'd clung to his mother so desperately. His mind and heart had written Acnologia off years before, but the thought of losing Anna pushed him to a limit he'd never considered. It was _unacceptable._

            “There's work to do.” She pulled back, sniffling and wiping his face again. “Work you can't be here for. This is going to be a circus.”

            “I –”

            “We need to make it so you weren't here tonight.” Anna's eyes pierced him and he nodded. Of course she was right. “I'll make a call, but you have to get out of here until I can clean this up. We’ll say you stayed out all night. I don’t think it’s a stretch, considering. Did anyone see you come home? How did you get here?”

            “Uh – ” Jellal felt a pull to look behind him at his father’s body but strained to ignore it. “I was with Laxus at the harbor. It’s Thursday.” Anna nodded as if she understood perfectly what that meant. Jellal didn’t have time to contemplate the implication paired with Acnologia’s earlier accusations. “He dropped me off behind that apartment complex over on Amaryllis and Sage.”

            “And no one saw you?”

            “No one ever sees, Mom,” he whispered. The earth seemed to be slowing its spin, and the punches he’d taken were catching up.

            “Good. That’s good. We can fix this.”

            “What about Lucy?”

            “Lucy is strong, Jellal. _This_ is our family now.” She tried to smile, but Jellal saw through her. “This is the _one_ night that I'll accept you not coming home. Do you understand?”

            He nodded and turned to head back out into the rain. Before he stepped through the gates of Love and Lucky, Jellal glanced up over his shoulder at the tall windows that oversaw everything. In a flash of lightning, he saw Lucy press her palm against the glass.

* * *

 

            Jellal wandered aimlessly through the streets of Magnolia, considering his options. Without a car he didn't have many. Ultear was out of bounds. He couldn't risk the watchful eye of her mother. She would _absolutely_ be on the investigation team assigned to his father’s murder. It was one thing for her to shield him from the drunk tank when she had no respectable rank to speak of, and allow him use of her home after nearly overdosing on heroine. But catching her eye in a situation like _this?_ No.

            Igneel might take him in for the night, but the south part of town was farther than he thought his legs were capable of carrying him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jellal thought maybe the Dragon Slayers would be busy for the night – especially if _Anna_ was the real link and not his father.

            Out of breath and dazed, Jellal ducked into a bus stop shelter and fell to the bench. He gritted his teeth and tried to relax against the backrest. His shoes left wet prints on the cracked concrete. He tried to focus on that while breathing slow and shallow. It was hard enough to inhale and exhale smoothly with bruised ribs, but add in the fact that he hadn't caught a decent breath since his father's crest ring collided with his jaw, and Jellal didn't think easy breathing would come anytime soon.

            A pair of headlights swung around the corner and a black car came to stop at the curb. Water from his hair dripped into his eyes, but the head of crimson revealed by the slowly descending back seat window was unmistakable. He'd never met Erza's mother before, but _damn_ if they didn't look almost identical. The woman's lips twitched downward. Jellal imagined he must be a poor sight. The car door swung open and she slid across the seat further into the shadows.

            Jellal's eyes scanned up and down the dark street before he sighed painfully and stumbled back out into the rain. He almost felt bad for getting the seats wet, but let that go as soon as he felt the padding against his back. Quickly, he pulled the car door shut and enjoyed the warmer air caressing his skin. He closed his eyes and let his jaw hang slack as the driver eased away from the curb. A towel landed in his lap. Jellal got a hold of himself enough to open his eyes again and focus on it.

            “At least dry your hair,” Erza's mother said in an unexpectedly soft voice. “It'll be enough of a horror for Erza to see you this way.”

            “How –”

            “There aren't many people I bother with favors for,” she interrupted smoothly, her eyes pinning him. Jellal's lungs almost felt emptier than when he'd pulled the trigger of his mother’s Desert Eagle. Despite her soft tone, there was cunning in her gaze he'd never seen in Erza. “If not for my daughter, I'd have told Igneel to deal with the mess he and your mother have made himself.”

            Her words swam in his head. The warm air sedated him to what felt like a buzz. All he wanted was to lie down.

            “You're a mess, Jellal Fernandes.” She sighed frustratedly. He suspected she spoke more to herself than him. “The beautiful ones are always the messiest. Snakes like my husband are more predictable—if you know when to cut off the head.”

            His eyes slid shut without permission and he couldn't think anymore.

* * *

 

            The scent of freesia mingled with sweat. Jellal groaned. His feet were shuffling but his weight was propped against something hard. His eyes cracked open when his shoulders were pressed downward into a chair. Fingers brushed the hair from his forehead and over the bruises on his face.

            “What happened?” a familiar, worried voice belonging to a blurry face asked.

            “I don't know. I only fished him from the gutter as promised.” He recognized _this_ voice. The woman from the car. _Erza's mother._ The room spun into focus. Jellal thought he might vomit, but a splash of water on his face broke through the nausea.

            “Hey, asshole,” Laxus growled. “Wake up.”

            _“Laxus!”_ a new voice scolded. A flash of platinum snagged his eye before Erza's hair swished as she stepped between him and Laxus. Something about the silver girl swearing at Laxus tugged at his memory. He almost…

            “Was that necessary?” Erza's mother asked, slicing through his fuzzy thoughts. “I only just convinced him to dry off and now he's wet again.”

Jellal's abdomen throbbed as he did his best to wipe his face with his palms. His hands wouldn't stop shaking. “I'm fine,” he croaked. Erza spun around and knelt in front of him. Her eyes were wide, and he felt her tabulating every scrape and bruise.

            “What the fuck happened?” Laxus demanded.

            “My dad happened.” He cleared his throat, and accepted a fresh glass of water from the girl with the silver hair who looked _almost_ familiar. “My driver's a narc.” Jellal didn't have to glance up at Laxus to know he was fuming.

            “You sloppy motherfu–”

            “Stop it, Laxus!” Erza took the empty water glass and set it aside. “He's had enough.”

            “Erza's right.” The woman Igneel had called Ellie had all the authority of a nuclear bomb. If Jellal hadn't been so fuzzy he'd have relished Laxus's chastised expression. “He's punch drunk and has nothing of value to say. Get him upstairs before someone with a hinged jaw sees.”

            Jellal let Erza pull him to his feet but shoved Laxus off when a steadying grip grabbed his arm.

            “Take the service elevator. Even if Ivan returned this second, he'd never be fast enough to catch you.” Erza's mother pointed to the polished silver doors at the back of the room – a kitchen, he realized. She had Laxus nailed to the floor with a sharp look, and he only nodded and gestured toward the opposite door. The young woman with silver hair wrung her hands and stared up at Laxus. No, this wasn’t the silver girl from his memories. Her hair was longer, curlier. Still, though. _So, so familiar_. The elevator doors drew shut and cut her off from his view.

            “Are you alright?” Erza whispered.

Jellal's gaze bounced off the walls of the lift. “I'll live.” He smiled at her but she didn't look relieved at all. The elevator lurched to a stop and the doors slid open again.

Erza glanced up and down the corridor before grabbing his hand. “This way,” she said, in an unnecessarily hushed voice. The hallway didn't look at all as he'd imagined. Only one door was immediately visible, and when they rounded a corner, just one more came into view.

            “Not a whole lot of rooms for a hotel,” he mused, his curiosity getting the better of him.

            “This is one of three residential floors. My mom's suites are down the last hallway on the right, we just passed Laxus', and this one's mine.” Erza let go of his hand and pulled a key from her pocket. She pushed him into the room and locked it behind her. “Ivan keeps the top floor for himself. I've never been up there. The floor below us is used for visitors that aren't hotel guests.”

            Jellal dropped his hand from his ribs and took in Erza's room. It was larger than his, and a good deal tidier. He moved to sit on her couch, but she grabbed his arm.

            “Oh, no you don't. If you sit, you'll never get back up.” She directed him towards her bathroom. White marble and gold fixtures gleamed everywhere. Erza stepped in front of him and lifted his shirt. Jellal winced as he raised his arms to pull it over his head. Though gentle, her fingers still hurt. The surreptitious way she swiped tears from her cheeks didn't go unnoticed as she turned away from him.

            Erza switched on the shower water and Jellal shivered in anticipation of the hot spray. She nodded at his pants but didn't wait for him to remove them before digging through a drawer.

            “Here,” she said, grabbing his hand. Three white pills rolled out of the bottle and something inside of him both recoiled and _delighted._

            “I don't think I should have these,” he whispered, unable to take his eyes off the pills. The pain in his cheek, skull, and ribs begged for relief but his _mind_ warned him off _any_ opiate derivatives – synthetic or no.

            “You're in pain and there's anti-inflammatory medication in the compound.”

            “Erza –” His heart raced.

            “I don't want you to suffer, Jellal, but if you think you shouldn't...” She trailed off and took the pills between her fingers. Before she could return them to the bottle, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand toward his mouth. Her eyes were stuck on his, and he didn't even try to look away.

            The pills tasted horrible going down dry but he swallowed them and pressed his tongue against the tips of her fingers. His demons be damned, Jellal wanted to be rid of everything he could feel. She popped the button at his waist free and pushed the pants down over his hips with one hand. Without a word she left him alone in the bathroom.

            Jellal stepped under the water and braced himself against the marble wall. The hot water took away the sting of his bruises, even though he knew logically he should be taking a cold shower. Shivering didn’t appeal to him, though. He wasn’t looking to wreck even a second of the relief Erza’s pills would bring. After a few moments and slow breaths, the pills began to mix with the last of the bourbon in his stomach and the pain subsided. He breathed deeply and felt gorgeously numb. _This_ was what he'd missed. Jellal raised his face to the spray and smiled.

            A pair of hands slid over his back and around his waist. He felt her lips along his spine and, with perhaps too much speed, Jellal turned. She was pink in the steam except for her hair. Wet ropes of darkened scarlet blazed a path downward to her breasts. He watched her fingers find the bruises on his ribs and arms before she took in the ruin of his face. Her touch no longer hurt. Everything hummed.

            “How do you feel?” she whispered just above the sound of the water. Jellal's answer was an impulsive kiss. Erza wasn't as gentle as before. She clung to him and pressed her body against his. As much as he wanted to _see_ her, the _feel_ of her was good too.

            The smooth expanse of white and gold-flecked marble complimented Erza's skin when he pressed her against it. He took the time to acquaint himself with her body in a way the backseat of his car would never allow. She was soft but firm. Jellal’s hands gathered the bulk of her hair over her shoulder. In the process, he knocked over a bottle of soap. The humid air positively dripped with the scent of freesia. He could taste it on his tongue and on her lips and on the tips of his fingers. The humming grew both louder and softer. It was familiar and he hadn’t realized how much he _truly_ missed the sound in his ears.

            Erza’s arms wound around his neck and without considering the strain on his damaged body, he lifted her. Her back slid against the smooth marble and her thighs gripped him tightly. Jellal didn't wait to see if she'd hold herself up before leaning in and leaving kisses on her throat and breasts.

            One thigh hitched higher on his hip when the tip of him nudged her opening. She twisted and grasped at his shoulders, trying to achieve _something_ but Jellal wasn't ready just yet. He kissed the dip in her collarbone, her jaw, and behind one ear before dragging his tongue over the slope of her neck. Erza’s breaths were furiously impatient when he took her lips.

            He reached over to shut the water off before letting her feet fall to the shower floor. Erza glared up at him in frustration and he didn't think she'd ever looked more appealing. She grabbed a towel and pat them both down before taking his wrist and pulling him through the steam choked bathroom back into her bedroom. Jellal's body buzzed with anticipation and muted pain – the air in her bedroom wasn’t quite as warm and agitated him. The contrast only added to his excitement.

            She ducked under his arm and spun him around before pushing him into the bed against the headboard. Her pillows puffed around him. He didn't stop smiling even as the palms of her hands pressed lightly against his bruised ribs. Erza straddled his waist and grabbed his wrists. She wanted him to touch her, and he obliged.

            Stretching over him, Erza tapped her finger against the base of the bedside lamp. All the lights in the room dimmed. She gazed down at him with heavy eyes and took his erection in her hand. Jellal's palms fell to her hips and held her balanced as she guided him inside. She moved fluidly, and he couldn't quite remember where he ended and she began. Unable to stay away from her, Jellal sat up and left a disjointed pattern of kisses across her clavicle, under her breasts, and on the curve of her neck. Her skin tasted like nothing he'd ever sampled before. His mind muddled further.

            She sighed, and the tremor in her belly spoke volumes. Jellal's arms circled around her before he flipped her back to the bed. Tendrils of blood red scarlet fell across the mattress and his fingers tangled in them. Erza's breaths were high and shallow. Her thighs squeezed, and Jellal's ribs protested.

            _“Jellal,”_ she breathed. _“Please.”_ The sound of her voice was thick and sweet in his ears. He wanted to hear her beg him for _hours._ Nothing else in the whole world mattered more than this exact moment. His fingers found her on the edge and her release came quickly.

            Jellal's toes tingled with the numbness that always came with the high. Pills were _not_ the same as powder. They were _cheaper._

            _No,_ the rational part of his mind corrected. _Better for you. Less dangerous. Less deadly. Less... less less less._

            His arm slipped under her knee, and he found a new angle to stop the argument in his head. Jellal's climax wasn't an edge or a peak – it was the impact of a train into a wall. His forehead fell to her shoulder and he couldn't quite catch his breath. Erza's lips pressed soft kisses to his cheeks and eyelids. He felt her fingers brush the place on his jaw where the Fernandes family crest ring had left its mark.

            He thought maybe he said something but couldn't, for the life of him, remember what it was. The utter ruination that came after sex on a high had slipped his mind at some point in the last year. Or was it the screaming of his body and muscles that sapped him of every last bit of energy? It didn’t matter, really. All of his memories were now dripping in _red._ Erza's face replaced the others in his foggy mind. _Red_ like her hair. _Red_ like her lips. Just _red._

His arms felt weak and useless. Erza rolled him to his side and disappeared only for a moment before covering them both with her sheets. Freesia body wash seeped into his dreams. The blooms were purple but all he saw was _red._


	11. Under Construction!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**Important notice!** _
> 
> This chapter and every chapter beyond is under construction. The events therein are subject to minor changes. Once these chapters have been seen by my beta reader, I will post them in groups of ~5.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Anna leaned in close to the bathroom mirror and brushed liquid bandage over the thin cut on her neck. It hurt her heart more than anything else. Once the serum dried completely she pulled on a turtleneck sweater. Spring hadn't warmed up so much that it would be out of place. Especially during such a wet cold front. She left the bathroom and ignored the mess on the bed. Acnologia had torn up the sheets trying to escape his paranoid dreams and it would be much more natural to let the staff handle the bedding than to start a load of laundry in the middle of the night.

With a steadying breath Anna stepped out into the hallway and made her way through the house. She'd been holding off on making a follow up phone call but it had been long enough. Her stomach growled and the kitchen seemed as good a place as any to rally herself.

“Will Jellal be okay?” a voice from the top of the stairs asked. Anna turned to see Lucy clutching the bannister handrail. She tried to smile comfortingly but failed.

“I'll handle this, Lucy. Jellal will be fine.”

“I'm worried. He – he can't be in a good place.” She paused and her mouth twisted into a frown. “You and Jellal are all I have left.” Anna turned around fully to face Lucy. She deserved that much.

“I'm going to try and make things right.” Anna felt her phone vibrating in her pocket and her heart lurched. “That boy, Natsu. Do you trust him?”

“I do.”

“Good.” Anna descended the stairs and retreated to the kitchen. She pulled her phone from her pocket and answered. Igneel's voice on the other end of the line wasn't as comforting as she'd have liked. “Is he safe?” she whispered.

“He's safe. My sister found him at a bus stop. I don't know how good of an idea it is to have him at _Fairy Tail_ even for just the night, though. Ivan is not to be mistaken for a man capable of rational thought.”

“It's not safe for him here. Not until everything is cleaned. He needs to return in the morning so he can be seen.”

“My guys handled everything. The police won't find anything on the property.” Igneel paused and Anna felt the expanse between them in her bones. “Do you want _me_ to come? Or would you rather come here? I'm down at the harbor. Pier fifteen is mine and we can talk there.” Igneel's voice was soft and pleading. Her breath caught in her throat. Telling him _no_ and _meaning it_ hadn't ever been a skill she wielded with finesse. She'd loved him once. Before leaving Magnolia to study in Alvarez and falling into the blind, _poisonous_ kind of love she had for Acnologia, Igneel had been the keeper of her heart. But that was a long time ago and things had changed. Meeting him at a pier he controlled in the dead of night would _not_ be the same as seeing him at Midnight Mass every year for Christmas on the arm of her husband. “Anna?”

“I –”

“If you're afraid for Lucy alone in that house, I'll send Natsu. He won't let anything happen to her.” Anna's mind clouded with nostalgia. A young girl with golden hair thinking the boy with a dragon tattoo hung the moon.

“Yes,” she blurted louder than intended. Anna heaved a breath and her hand tightened around the phone. “I'll meet you there. Pier fifteen.”

* * *

Rain mercilessly pelted the wood planks of the pier. The only vessel docked was small in size and she recognized it immediately. The yacht used to belong to Igneel's father. When Anna saw it last, it had been in desperate need of repair. Despite the rain, the refurbished boat floated proudly on the water's surface. She couldn't help but admire it. A yellow light from inside the cabin promised something warm and dry.

As she approached, Igneel waited under the overhang. The glow of his cigarette stood out against the darkness and she felt his eyes on her. Waves sloshed against the side of the boat. Anna pulled her hood further down over her eyes and focused on the hand stretched out to her over the gap. His grip was warm and firm as he held her steady enough to cross from the pier to the boat. When she was safely on the deck he motioned for her to join him in the cabin.

“I can't believe this night,” she whispered once inside. “I let my son fight the battle for me because I was weak.”

“Jellal will recover.” Anna swiped at the tears she'd been holding in since she'd sent Jellal away.

“It's so hard to watch him get knocked down over and over. There's a different force against him every time. I need to do a better job as his mother.”

“There will always be a part of Jellal at war with himself but he isn't the type to bend easily. He's been forged and tempered. Have some faith.” Igneel nodded toward a padded bench and Anna took a seat. She wanted to remove her heavy rain coat but wasn't sure how long she'd be staying.

“You should file a missing persons report in the morning. Tell them Acnologia disappeared after attacking your son. You and your niece should have matching stories. Jellal can tell his own, it won't matter. I've made sure he has solid alibis.”

“What about the, um –” Anna fumbled her words. “The body,” she whispered.

“The river will handle it,” he said pulling a cold bottle of something from a mini-fridge. “And I can't see Milkovitch dragging the entire bay. She's got her hands full with those bodies Ivan Dreyar threw off the roof of Raventail this weekend, I'm sure.”

“She's well acquainted with my family.” Anna offered awkwardly. Being in such close quarters with Igneel after so many years and so many unfinished conversations sent her mind reeling. “Jellal saw to that himself.”

“He's been clean long enough.”

“Right,” Anna breathed. She flicked her hair from her eyes and when she looked up, he was beside her on the bench. Older, taller, and thicker than when she'd last seen him so close. She supposed she'd changed too. “I should go. I need to make sure Lucy is okay.”

“She is.” He smiled sadly and his eyes fell to her ponytail. “He might not be a biological son but it seems that the apple hasn't fallen too far from the tree.”

“I'm not my mother,” Anna whispered. “Lucy is free to do what she wants. The burden of family is too heavy for hearts so young.” He inched into her personal space and she reached out to press a hand to his forearm. “Don't. I can't.”

He let her go. For the second time in their lives, she left with tears on her face and a wish in her broken heart.

* * *

The persistent knocking was _not_ welcome. Laxus's eyes cracked open and curls the color of moonlight were on his pillow. The knocking came again along with the screeching of his alarm. He groaned and reached out for his phone. His fingers only brushed the edge of his bedside table but when he rolled closer, he slid right off the mattress taking the top sheet with him.

“Turn that alarm off,” Mirajane griped. “Not all of us have to get up so early.” She tugged on the blankets and left him with nothing.

“Sorry, babe,” he muttered, still trying to figure out how he'd wound up on the floor. The knocking didn't stop even once he silenced the alarm. Before he could process what was happening, the sound of a key sliding into the lock was followed by the door swinging open. Eileen stood in all her terrible crimson glory in his doorway. She stepped inside and the door clicked shut. Her eyes settled on him and one perfect eyebrow quirked upward.

“Have I come at a bad time?” she asked flatly. Laxus glanced down and, realizing he was naked, scrambled back up to the bed and held a pillow over his lap. Erza's mother never failed to throw him off guard in the most humiliating ways possible.

“No,” he said with as much sarcasm as he could muster. “First thing in the morning is a perfect time.”

“I'll be blunt,” Eileen said, clasping her hands together in front of her.

“I wasn't aware you could be anything else,” he mumbled, scanning the bed and floor for _any_ clothing whatsoever.

“Acnologia Fernandes is dead.” Laxus's eyes snapped back up to her and he could feel Mirajane stiffen under the blankets behind him. “His son is still in this hotel and your father hasn't returned from whatever rat's nest he wandered off to last night. I want you to get Jellal Fernandes _out_ and my daughter to school. Her absence will be noticed. It would be in your best interest to carry out a normal school day, as well.”

Laxus opened his mouth to drop any one of the questions rattling in his brain but Eileen held up a hand to stop him.

“I don't have details so don't waste your breath asking. Just get up, get dressed, and get that boy and my daughter _out.”_ Eileen's hair fanned out behind her as she whirled around and left his room just as quickly as she'd invited herself in.

* * *

Laxus stood outside the door that led to Erza's suite and balled his fists. He _wanted_ to barge in and drag Jellal from her bed and toss him out on the sidewalk, but he couldn't. Incurring the wrath of Eileen over invading Erza's personal space wasn't worth the satisfaction of making the fantasy real. How many times had he warned his stupid ass to be more careful? Jellal hadn't gone into detail about what his driver had possibly seen but Laxus could guess the information included everything from their friendship, to Erza, and extended all the way to the dragon tattoo on Laxus's back.

His frustration bubbled over. He'd put in his time with Jellal. For damn near two years he'd watched his friend spiral further and further into a dark place he just couldn't follow. Things were supposed to be better now! Jellal was clean! Erza's presence had dropped a bomb on the peace.

 _Not Erza,_ he reminded himself, _Ivan. Acnologia._ Laxus's stomach churned. He didn't want to be the one to fill Jellal in on Acnologia. After Eileen had left his room, Mirajane shot out of bed and flipped on the television. However the manner of his death, it wasn't public yet. It would be, though. Very soon.

Laxus jumped back when the door swung open on its own. Erza stood on the other side of it, glaring up at him.

“How long were you going to lurk out here?” she snapped.

“I didn't want to interrupt... anything.” Erza rolled her eyes and stepped aside leaving the door wide open. The bed was a mess but empty. Jellal exited her bathroom looking like hell. His clothes were wrinkled and his arm stayed firmly around his middle as he lowered himself into a chair. The attempt to put his own shoes on was so pathetic, Erza took pity on him and helped.

“Are you sure you –”

“I'm sure,” Jellal cut her off, wincing even as he said it. Laxus didn't know – and didn't _want_ to know – the context of their conversation. Erza laced and tied his shoes carefully.

“Can we speed this up? I've been informed by the Queen of the House that Fernandes here needs to be gone as soon as possible. My dad didn't come home last night and he could pop in at any minute. I'm not trying to have a repeat of last Sunday on the roof of _Fairy Tail._ ” Laxus watched Jellal get to his feet and suck in shallow breaths. He didn't want to feel any sympathy but he did.

* * *

Erza fawned over Jellal in the car just as much as she had while she tied his goddamn shoes for him. It grated on Laxus's nerves. He still couldn't quite believe how quickly everything had gone to shit. More than anything he was annoyed at his personal concern over the impending cluster fuck of feelings Jellal would be faced with as soon as he made it past the gates of _Love and Lucky._ Acnologia may have been a poor excuse for a dad, but the loss would still hurt. The hard edge of _never_ hurt more than a _maybe_ when it came to holding out hope for a better parent.

“Listen,” Jellal managed, leaning forward toward the front seat when Laxus brought the car right up to the curb outside of _Love and Lucky_. He'd never dared venture so far but he wasn't a big enough bastard to make Jellal walk the distance he normally did. “The news is gonna be pretty swift when things go public.” Laxus's eyes found Jellal's in the rearview mirror.

“When what goes public?” He felt like he already knew the answer but needed to hear it anyway.

“My dad is dead.”

“You should've said something before _just now,”_ Laxus bit out, furious he'd expended any grief on Jellal's behalf.

“Yeah probably.” Jellal sighed and fell back against the seat. Erza took his hand into her lap and Laxus rolled his eyes. “If anyone asks, I never went home last night.”

“No one is gonna ask, moron,” Laxus said unlocking the doors. “Scary Step-mom said she was doing a favor for Igneel fishing you out of the rain. If you didn't connect the dots that this is above your pay grade, then you're stupider than you look.”

“Right,” Jellal sighed and pushed the car door open and Erza followed him out. Laxus groaned. _More_ delays. He cranked up the radio to drown out their conversation and did his level best to ignore her forlorn expression when she slid into the front seat. He couldn't safely breathe again until they cleared the section of town generally accepted to be Heartfilia-centric. Erza turned the music down and Laxus braced himself for whatever emotional waterfall was about to come out of her mouth.

“I'm worried about Jellal,” she said, still staring down at her hands. “He looked worse this morning than last night. I've never been that bad after a fight.”

“I don't think his old man considered it a fight,” Laxus bit out. “That was an ass kicking. Fernandes is such a fucking martyr I bet he didn't even fight back.”

“He's not a martyr,” Erza snapped.

“Yeah, he is. He's a masochist who loves to be destroyed. It's his hobby.”

“I tried to get him to take something –” Laxus jaw flexed.

“What kind of something?” he interrupted.

“Just a pill. He had two last night but refused this morning.”

“Fucking hell,” Laxus muttered. “Don't offer him stuff.”

“He told me about his problem. I just hated to see him suffer. He didn't even want them at first.”

 _“Good.”_ Laxus's grip loosened on the steering wheel. His shoulders were still bunched and as they approached Saint Fabrizio's, he decided he wouldn't be accompanying Erza. When he pulled up to the front of the school, she raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“You're not staying?”

“No. I've had a hell of a twenty-four hours. I'm ditching.” Laxus kept his eyes on the car ahead of him and ignored Erza's concern.

“Okay,” she said in a whisper. He didn't watch her go and vacated the campus as quickly as possible.

Four blocks away from the school and Laxus was already patting down his pockets for cigarettes. Normally at this hour he'd be on the roof with Jellal bumming them without a second thought. His temper flared at yet another disruption of his preferred normal. He pulled into a gas station and realized halfway between his car and the store that he didn't have the proper identification to even purchase cigarettes. Maybe he'd luck out and the cashier wouldn't card him.

Laxus never made it to the curb. His attacker smelled like stale malt liquor and the stench left behind when cigarette butts hang out in water for too long. Laxus fought back but the prick on his neck happened too quickly for him to stop. Everything felt fuzzy and heavy.

His cheek pressed into the hot pavement and he wondered how Erza would get home from school.


	12. Under Construction!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**Important notice!** _
> 
> This chapter and every chapter beyond is under construction. The events therein are subject to minor changes. Once these chapters have been seen by my beta reader, I will post them in groups of ~5.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

The zip ties hurt but more than anything else Laxus felt a deep seated rage. He sucked in breaths through clenched teeth and tested the strength of the ties before opening his eyes. His stomach dropped when he realized how much he didn't _want_ to recognize the room. Flare and Gajeel's blood still stained the floor. A boot made contact with his shoulder and Laxus slumped over on his side.

“He's up,” an unfamiliar voice announced.

“Good,” Ivan said quietly. Laxus watched his father thump across the floor and stop in front of him. “I should've listened to my gut and not my whore of a wife.” Ivan's foot pressed into Laxus's side and he rolled him over to his back. “I'll deal with her later, though, _and_ that daughter of hers.” Laxus hadn't been a step-brother for too long but the idea of someone like Ivan touching Erza curdled his milk. Ivan crouched and clasped his hands between his knees. “Don't look so offended, son, I'm sure you've thought of her in plenty of ways. She's young and pretty but almost as old as her mother when she was born.”

“Fuck you,” Laxus spat.

“Or maybe you're too distracted by the platinum blonde working the bar?” Ivan smiled in his vicious way and Laxus's eyes clouded with red.

Red like _rage._

He tried to lunge at Ivan but the boot previously on his shoulder kicked forcefully into his back. Laxus's chest slammed into the floor and he lost the air in his lungs.

“That's enough, Kurohebi. There's no need for violence just yet.” Ivan stood and Laxus felt himself lifted back into a sitting position. “I never wanted it to come to this, Laxus, but you've given me no choice.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Laxus seemed to be asking that question a lot lately. He was _sick_ and _tired_ of not knowing what was going on around him.

“Where did that scar on your face come from?” Ivan asked in a casual tone. Laxus's heart thundered. _Fuck._ “You didn't have one when I left.”

“Left?” Laxus laughed in spite of himself. “You didn't _leave._ Gramps kicked your crazy ass out.”

“Semantics.” Ivan waved a hand dismissively. “Tell me about that scar.”

“Fighting at school,” Laxus muttered, his gaze falling to the floor. He needed to get _out._

“With the Fernandes boy, perhaps?” Ivan posed, still far too calm for Laxus's liking. “Or are you too good of friends to fight?”

Laxus set his jaw and met Ivan's eyes. “Stop being a coy school girl and ask me the question you really want to fucking ask.”

“How long have you been selling us out?” Laxus laughed. He laughed, and laughed – and when he noticed Ivan's eyebrows dipping into a deep scowl, he laughed some more.

“It's real goddamn funny that _I'm_ the traitor here.” Without warning the hard rubber sole of Kurohebi's boot kissed his jaw. Laxus's mouth filled with something warm and he spat it out. The red mingled with the sweat and whatever else. Ivan nodded to his man and the same boot had him flat on the floor again with his cheek pressed into the blood from his mouth.

The sound of ripping fabric sent Laxus's mind reeling. He needed a plan. _Think think think._

“And there it is,” Ivan said in a piteous tone. “The mark of The Dragon Slayers. And such a large one, too. What am I going to do with you Laxus?” Kurohebi snatched the remaining fabric from Laxus's body and tossed it aside. Laxus rolled over and did his best to sit up. His wrists flexed in the ties. He didn't _want_ to go out half-cocked but he didn't have any other choice. Ivan would kill him without a second thought, of that he had no doubt. “How can I be credible in this town when my own son consorts with every one of my enemies? I might've forgiven your friendship with Acnologia's son but the Dragon Slayers? I simply can't look the other way.”

Ivan's mouth still moved and words still came out but Laxus wasn't listening. He twisted his wrists and curled his fingers and, in a desperate show of will, he lifted his arms as high as he could and brought them down against the small of his back. The zip ties snapped and suddenly he had the attention of the room. Ivan stepped back but Kurohebi lunged. Laxus's eye caught the glint of a blade and his hand closed tightly around the other man's wrist.

Kurohebi had gotten the drop on him before with stealth and surprise but not this time. Laxus felt the adrenaline burning through his veins as he sent the man into the wall where his skull cracked against the edge of an unfortunately placed wall mounted safe. He slumped against the floor leaving a trail of blood on the printed wallpaper. Laxus flipped the knife in his hands and enjoyed it's weight.

“You get your strength from me,” Ivan said from across the room. His path zigged and zagged but Laxus already knew his trick.

“No,” he countered. “I get it from _me.”_ Ivan wasn't a small man but Laxus had reserves of strength that toppled him when their bodies collided. Every moment of sadness, every frustrated memory, every holiday with only a grandfather as family flashed in Laxus's mind. The funeral of his mother feathered in between the others. The rain. The tears. The lies. Laxus's fist found it's home in Ivan's face for every last image in his head. His knuckles screamed. Ivan laughed. He spit a mouthful of blood from his lips but the mess only oozed down his cheek.

“Go on,” he gurgled. “Hit me. Blame me for every moment of weakness in your whole life. What a waste.”

“Gramps was right to send you away,” Laxus huffed. “You're poisonous.”

“Maybe, but at least I'm not a traitor.” Ivan's hands balled and shoved at Laxus's shoulders. He kicked his feet and the chaos was distracting. Laxus struggled to dodge the myriad of blows but the adrenaline high waned.

Ivan's lips curled into a sneer and Laxus didn't quite understand what had happened until his back hit the floor. His shoulder hurt – _a lot –_ and his ears registered the sound long before his nose understood. Laxus tried to move but the pain was unexpectedly intense. His skin slapped back to the floor in the growing puddle of blood. Ivan stood and gazed down at him with no expression at all.

“I blame myself,” he said with a clarity Laxus thought excessive for the way he swam in front of his eyes. The gun went off again and again.

Laxus felt something sting in his thigh and side. His breaths came shorter and shorter. The blood under his shoulder felt cold and sticky.

 _“Oh,”_ he whispered.

* * *

He'd been digging for sorrow or guilt but found only relief – and the relief brought shame. Jellal's fingers drew circles around the bruised sections of his ribs. His head still hurt and even though a bottle of perfectly acceptable, over the counter pain relief sat on his bedside table, he didn't touch it. Was he so much of a hollow person he couldn't manage even a drop of sadness for his murdered father? Or did it make his dead father the hollow person because he couldn't inspire grief in his son?

“Jellal?” Anna's voice was quiet. “Are you okay? The detectives have gone for now.” She let herself in and he felt the bed depress beside him.

“I don't know what I am,” he said honestly. “How do _you_ feel about all this?” His mother sighed and from the corner of his eye he could see her inspecting the ends of her hair.

“Your father wasn't a well man.”

“Just say what you mean, mom. He was a junkie who went over the edge.”

“I'm grieved our family is so broken.” Anna paused and the silence was heavy on Jellal's chest. “But in truth, it was broken long before last night,” she whispered.

“Maybe I should give myself up,” Jellal murmured. “It might be better for everyone if –”

“You will do no such thing, Jellal,” Anna countered sharply.

“I didn't have to kill him, mom. He might've lived if I hadn't taken that second shot.” He rolled his head to face her. “We could've stuffed him into some kind of rehab. He was trying to fix things, wasn't he?”

“You mean the bourbon?” Anna asked.

“He could've made it work –”

“'Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs;  
Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes;  
Being vexed, a sea nourished with loving tears.  
What is it else? A madness most discreet,  
A choking gall, and a preserving sweet.'” Jellal's mind returned to days long gone when Anna would recite poetry for him when he'd had a bad dream. Her voice had the perfect cadence for poetry and yarns of love were her favorite.

“I suppose Shakespeare was right about a few things.” he whispered. “I'm afraid of turning into him.”

“You aren't him,” she whispered, brushing the dirty clumps of hair from his forehead. “You came back to me.”

“What did you tell the cops happened last night?” Jellal asked, sitting up and biting back a groan.

“That he'd been on a bender ranting and raving about nonsense.” Her eyes stayed stubbornly on her hands. Jellal had told enough lies in his life to know what they looked like. “I saw Lucy off to bed and when I woke this morning he was gone. I said I didn't know what else to do.” Anna stopped short and finally glanced up at him. “So I called Ur Milkovitch. She's become quite skilled at returning precious things to me.”

“How did they know to search the riverbank?”

Anna sighed heavily. “Where else would he be? In a mad rage and further from sobriety than I assumed, why wouldn't he seek out Igneel?”

“Everyone knew they working together. Why would there be a reason to seek him out in rage?”

“I think you know the answer to that question, Jellal.”

“This is about Laxus and Erza, then?” Anna reached over to touch the top point of his tattoo.

“Yes. I admit I was surprised to learn you were seeing someone so dangerous for you.” She grimaced. “I thought maybe you'd have the good sense to draw the line with Laxus or that you'd grown out of your love of danger.”

“Erza isn't dangerous,” he offered quietly. “She's –”

“The daughter of Ivan Dreyar's wife.” Anna finished for him. “How did you manage to convince yourself that would end well?”

“It's not going to _end.”_

“You put Laxus in danger, too.” He felt her eyes on him and she sighed. “It isn't my intention to chastise you, Jellal. Forgive me, please.”

“For what it's worth, Laxus hasn't been silent on the subject of Erza. I've heard nothing but warnings and complaints since the first time I saw her fight.”

Anna laughed quietly. “Is she as fierce as her mother?”

“You know her?”

“Eileen?” She shook her head and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Not really. Not anymore. We weren't on great terms when we were young.”

“Why not?”

“Eileen was always a sharp girl, and I do mean that in every sense of the word.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

“Did she say anything to you last night?”

Jellal barked a painful laugh. “She told me that if it wasn't for Erza she'd leave you and Igneel to clean up your own messes.”

“I see.” Anna's lips quirked into a tiny smile. “She only bothered because her daughter favors you. Igneel never moved her an inch.”

“She told me I'm a mess.” Jellal breathed deeply and his middle stung harshly. “She's right.”

“There's many different kinds of messes, Jellal,” Anna said kindly. “You've been into the darkness and found your way out. You know enough not to go back. I don't think there's fault in that. Eileen loves her daughter. Just be sure she never has to protect her from _you.”_

“I don't want that either. You don't mind that I'm seeing her?”

“No. I'm not in the business of telling you or Lucy who you can and can't see.” Her expression softened again. “Just be wary of Ivan. In some ways he's more dangerous than your father ever was.”

“Eileen said something last night,” he mused as the memory surfaced. “Something about cutting the head off the snake.”

“I've no doubt she's got her own agenda. I warned you she's sharp.”

Jellal nodded and suddenly felt filthy. His clothes were ruined and his skin vaguely itched as his body still processed out the hydrocodone from the night before. “I should shower.” He stood and allowed his mother to pull him against her.

“I'm sorry he hurt us, little starboy,” she whispered. “I'm sorry I'm all you have left. I'll be better from now on.” Anna choked on a sob. “If it's not too late.”

“It's not,” Jellal assured her, returning her embrace.

Anna closed the door behind her when she left and Jellal had half a mind to simply return to bed but he couldn't. He _itched._

On his way to the bathroom he switched on the television. The scene at the riverbank was on a live feed. Acnologia's body had already been removed, of course, they couldn't show a mangled and bloated dead man on the news but Jellal still thought the coverage morbid.

He stuffed his dirty clothing in the garbage instead of the hamper and felt his itching nausea subside under the cold water. Only the most frigid of showers had ever been able to cut through his foggy headspace. He wished he hadn't taken the pills.

He wished he'd taken _more._

* * *

Eileen felt the last grain of sand in the glass fall the moment Ivan invited himself into her suites. The very second he threw the door open she knew their time had come to an end. She stood and whirled around, not bothering to mask her offense at being interrupted in the slightest.

“Ah, here you are, _wife.”_

“Is there a reason you've intruded on my private space? We had an agreement.”

“Agreements can be a fickle thing,” Ivan said flippantly. “One day you think you have loyalty in family and the next? _Poof!”_ Eileen's expression didn't falter but her mind churned. He'd done something. He'd done something she suspected to be _irreversible._

“I don't care for word games and I don't care for my private –”

“This entire hotel belongs to me,” he cut through her words evenly. “You have no private space.”

“I see.” Eileen stepped away from her vanity and meant to cross the room to her closet but Ivan closed an iron grip around her bicep. She didn't even bother with a scathing expression because she already knew Ivan would never fear her – that had been part of her plan from the moment she allowed him into her bed back in Crocus.

“You _don't_ see, and that's your problem. Laxus betrayed me and has paid for his choices.” Ivan's grip tightened and Eileen fought hard not to betray her disgust. _“Your_ loyalty is mine to judge. Perhaps I need to be reassured.”

“How thin skinned are you that you demand obeisances from _me?_ You've been nothing but _unbelievably_ sloppy. _No one_ will touch _Fairy Tail_ once word of whatever you've done to Laxus gets out. You've become just as much of a liability as Belserion. I don't owe you a _thing.”_

“I've done your killing for you,” Ivan drawled, a grin crawling across his face. “I've paid your debts for you.” He yanked her against his chest and screamed, _“You owe me everything!”_

Eileen didn't try to overpower him. Her eyes scanned the bedside tables for anything she could use as a weapon. When she'd imagined taking his life, it hadn't ever been so spontaneous. Ivan twisted her arm into the small of her back and pushed her down onto the bed. Her forehead narrowly missed the edge of one of the tables. She ignored the pain in her arm and the humiliation of being disrobed so maliciously. His hands roamed the expanse of her naked back.

“It'll be a shame to destroy such lush beauty,” he said to the sound of belt leather being pulled free. “I suppose there's always Erza.”

Eileen's free hand inched toward the table. Her vision clouded with unadulterated rage.

“I could pawn her off on one of the pillow houses Belserion found you in.” She felt him move between her feet and push her legs apart. He bent down and the buttons of his shirt pressed into her spine. “Or maybe I'll just keep her for myself.”

Those were the last words Ivan Dreyar ever spoke clearly. Eileen's hand shot out and her fingers closed around the body of an iron cherub holding a pastel colored Tiffany globe. She bit back the sharp pain in her twisted arm as she flipped her body over and brought the heavy lamp body crashing into Ivan's shoulder and neck. The cord ripped from the wall socket, knocking over an empty water glass, and the taloned claws of the base dug into the soft skin just above his clavicle.

Ivan's eyes were wide as his thoughts tried to catch up to what had just happened. Eileen brought the lamp base down on him again and smiled with great satisfaction when she heard his bones crunching under the weight of the lamp. Blood flowed freely from the mangled mess of his neck as she stood from the bed and smoothed her hair. His body twitched as the mattress greedily soaked up his blood. He gurgled and gasped.

“Your first mistake was invading my space, _husband,”_ she said with a levity he couldn't appreciate in his state. “You could possibly have bought yourself another week on your makeshift throne but when you revealed your revenge on Laxus and threatened my daughter, I'm afraid you stepped over the line.”

Eileen tossed her robe aside disgustedly. He'd touched it, and she never wanted it on her body again. With Ivan still twitching and bleeding out on her bed, she crossed the room to her closet for clean clothes. She dressed quickly and wrinkled her nose at the smell of so much blood.

“I suppose I should inform the police of what's happened.” Eileen glanced over her shoulder one last time before leaving the room.


	13. Under Construction!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _**Important notice!** _
> 
> This chapter and every chapter beyond is under construction. The events therein are subject to minor changes. Once these chapters have been seen by my beta reader, I will post them in groups of ~5.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Anna wasn't surprised to see him, only surprised he took so long to make the venture. He found her in the kitchen – the service door hadn't moved in the nearly twenty years since he'd entered through it last – and she didn't stop him from standing right at her elbow.

“How is your niece?” She asked, fishing a slice of nectarine from her sangria. The fruit was her favorite part.

“Erza is fine. They cleaned out the mess before she could see any of it.”

“And Eileen?”

Igneel laughed softly and took the liberty of touching the ends of Anna's hair. She couldn't bring herself to stop him. “It's not her first time around this particular dance floor. I'm sure she's most annoyed at having to purchase a new bed and renovate the top floor of _Fairy Tail_ to suit her tastes.”

“So she's taking the wheel?”

“Of course.” He sighed and leaned against the kitchen counter. She felt his eyes on her but couldn't meet them. “The shadows of Magnolia will now belong to me. You've got _Love and Lucky_ back and Eileen can have the independence she's always wanted.” Igneel breathed another laugh. “She's free of the petty games men play. She might play with _you_ though.”

“Your sister and I –”

“Are peers,” Igneel interjected. “There's value in your brand and money to be made.”

“You don't have to stay in the shadows,” Anna whispered.

“The Dragon Slayers are my family, Anna. I stay so Natsu can be free. Lucy, Erza, and Jellal are the same. We've made these sacrifices for our children.” His hands slid over her shoulders and Anna allowed him to turn her body into his.

“I don't want another husband, Igneel.”

“I'm not offering.” Igneel's finger brushed her hair from her face and he smiled. “I can give you my nights but nothing else. You have my heart already.”

Anna couldn't quite catch her breath and her eyes fluttered closed. His touch felt too hot and too wild. He brushed his lips over the apple of her cheek before falling to her mouth. The kiss was barely a whisper.

“I need some time,” she breathed.

“For you, all I have is time.” He was gone before her eyes opened again.

* * *

Jellal's foot hopped up and down anxiously. He ashed his cigarette and inhaled a deep drag that earned him a glare from passing nuns and nurses alike. The sky was a heather gray and the air, thick with humidity, stuck to his skin. An ambulance passed by and circled around the emergency entrance with no speed or urgency. Jellal watched the EMT's and paramedics laugh and joke with one another as they filed into the hospital. For the first time in his life he wondered if maybe he could have a future outside of _Love and Lucky._

_Why not?_

He wasn't a Heartfilia – he didn't even _look_ like one and the tattoo on his face set him even further apart. Jellal ran a hand through his damp hair and didn't care at all how unkempt he probably appeared on a bench across the parking lot from a hospital smoking a cigarette at eight in the morning. Maybe instead of lunch, he'd pop into the councilor's office and inquire after a trade school instead of a business path.

Erza took a seat next to him and brought with her a cloud of freesia. She plucked the cigarette from his fingers and squished it with the sole of her shoe.

“Are you smoking them down to the filters now?” she asked, only half joking.

“I hadn't noticed.” He tried to smile at her but could only manage a smirk. Erza sighed and tidied his hair.

“You look even less presentable than when I left you out here.”

“I'm tired.” His shoulders drooped and he briefly considered skipping school altogether in favor of just going right back to bed.

“Too tired to go inside?”

Jellal perked up and quirked an eyebrow. “I thought it was family only.”

“My mom made a call.” Erza stood and took his hand. “Come on. I know you want to.” Jellal stuffed his free hand into his pocket and squeezed the pack of cigarettes. They were a disgusting vice but better for him than his others – which spoke very poorly of Jellal's addictions.

The hospital smelled of lemon disinfectant and antiseptic. He hoped Erza's body spray would mask the scent of cigarette smoke he carried with him. The nun who'd scowled at him outside glanced him up and down before twisting her lips disapprovingly at the way Erza kept his hand in hers. Jellal couldn't help his grin.

Erza peeked into the room before pulling Jellal inside. The curtains were drawn and a heart monitor beeped steadily. Jellal wrinkled his nose.

“You look like shit,” he said, not feeling any shame when Erza snorted derisively.

“Fuck you,” Laxus muttered, adjusting and wincing as he did so. “I still look better than you on any given day.”

“How's the shoulder... and the leg and your side –”

“I'll live,” Laxus growled, interrupting him. “Erza, what have I ever done to deserve you bringing this dick to my room like this?”

“You've been a grouch,” she replied, touching the IV tubes before shrugging her bag off into a chair. “You need company that's not me. You boys be good, I'm going to get some breakfast before we have to go.”

Jellal watched Erza leave before sighing and turning back to Laxus. Truth be told, he did _not_ care for seeing his friend in such a sorry state. These days, reminders of mortality weren't welcome.

“How's school?” Laxus muttered awkwardly.

“Don't ask me about that, I know you have real questions.” Jellal pulled a chair closer to the bed and fell into it. His ribs still bothered him but the pain had eased off considerably since the weekend.

“I still don't know what the fuck happened.”

“Your psycho dad shot you, and then Erza's scary mom killed him with a lamp.”

“Right,” Laxus grumbled. “I don't know how I could've forgotten.”

“I'm here to help.”

“If someone would've told me three months ago that all this was coming down the pipe, I'd have laughed in their face.”

“You and me both.” Jellal raked his fingers through his hair again and found it much drier than it had been outside. He suspected the points of it were everywhere. “They're calling my dad's death an accident.”

“That's bullshit.”

“Yep.”

“Are you gonna tell me what happened?”

“He's gone and I'm not sorry.” Jellal propped his feet up on the side rail of Laxus's bed. “Igneel's been to my house twice in the last two weeks. He comes in through the kitchen and leaves before the sun comes up.”

“You think he's the one who did your dad?” Laxus hedged. Jellal knew his curiosity burned but even in a hospital the walls could have ears.

“I know he isn't but I'm pretty damn sure he's doing my mom.” Laxus laughed and then cringed.

“Goddamn it everything hurts. Anyway, stay out of it.”

“You're always saying that,” Jellal said, grinning.

“That's because you need to hear it. Let them do whatever they're doing. It doesn't concern you.” Laxus hit a button on his IV and relaxed. “Has Scary Step-mom gutted the top floor of the hotel yet?”

“Why would I know that?”

Laxus pursed his lips and rolled his eyes. “Don't fucking pretend you haven't been to the hotel. I know you and Erza aren't banging in the car all the time.”

“All I know is that there's a crew doing some work on the main floor. I don't have an invite to the top floor nor do I care to ask about the basement levels. I'd like to hold on to my body parts, thank you.”

“I'm sure Igneel's guys have cleaned it out already. She wouldn't want to keep any of that around.” Laxus grunted and his eyes drooped. “She wants _Fairy Tail_ to be legit.”

Erza slipped back into the room and handed Jellal a bottle of juice. She glanced at the clock on the wall and pushed Jellal's feet off the bedrails.

“We need to get going,” she said softly, taking in Laxus's tired eyes. “You should get some rest. I'll send Mirajane later, okay? They'll let her in.”

“Thanks,” Laxus said with a sloppy smile. “You're a great sister.”

Erza grinned. “You hit your morphine button, didn't you?”

“Yeah,” he drawled.

“You need to get some sleep. It's good for you.” Erza patted his arm and turned back to Jellal who'd hefted her bag to his shoulder.

“Why are you carrying around rocks?” he muttered.

“Those are books, Jellal.” Erza slid her hand into his and glanced over her shoulder at Laxus who'd already dozed off. “Let's get out of here. He doesn't sleep enough. The nurses say he's restless and intolerable.” Jellal laughed a little too loud but Laxus didn't stir.

The air outside was just as muggy as before but Jellal's chest felt lighter. He hadn't wanted to admit how worried he'd been about Laxus but his relief felt like a load off his back. Jellal tossed Erza's heavy bag into the backseat of his car and pulled the pack of cigarettes from his pocket. Erza passed him a lighter from the passenger seat and exhaled in the way that usually leads to heavy words.

“Thank you for coming.”

“It's _me_ who should thank _you,_ Erza.” He slid into the driver's seat and blew a cloud of smoke out of the window. “You took care of me when I was beat to hell.”

“About that night,” Erza took his hand again and traced the lines of his palm with the tip of her finger. “I'm sorry about the pills. You told me you had a problem and I shouldn't have offered.”

“Don't be sorry. My messes are my own responsibility.” He sighed and brought her wrist to his lips for a kiss. “I'm not proud of my weaknesses but I _am_ stronger than the weakest parts of me. The pills helped me sleep and even if I'd gotten up in the middle of the night and downed the whole bottle alone in the bathroom it wouldn't have been your fault.”

Jellal flicked the spent cigarette to the pavement and pulled out of the parking space and onto the road. Erza said nothing during the drive to the school. She kept his hand in her lap and didn't let go.

* * *

Anna's heels clicked on the marble floor and her eyes took in the lobby of a hotel she'd never truly had the opportunity to appreciate. Clusters of plush couches dotted the lobby and off to her right an archway led to a low lit room that Anna was sure housed a bar. Her arm around the box she carried with her tightened.

Before she could make it to the concierge desk, Eileen appeared at the far corner of the lobby. She glided across the room, her crimson hair fluttering about her shoulders. Her lips had been painted a nearly black shade of red and only when she smiled did Anna see any resemblance to Igneel.

“Anna Heartfilia,” she said extending her hand – Anna noticed two things right away. Eileen's bare fingers, and the choice to address her by her maiden name. Both of which were unexpectedly appreciated. “Please excuse the mess, we're in the midst of some much needed renovations.” She gestured to the crew headed toward a hallway that no doubt contained a service elevator. The lobby was otherwise immaculate.

“Of course. I should've called first –”

“Nonsense,” Eileen interrupted. “We have much to discuss and now is as good a time as any.” Anna allowed Eileen to slid an arm through hers and lead her toward the lounge and bar she'd passed just moments before.

The lounge was just as plush as the lobby. The Dreyars did not, apparently, spare expense when it came to the comfort of their guests. Eileen stopped at the far end of the bar and patted the varnished wood surface with her hand.

“I haven't mixed a drink in ages but I'm sure I can manage. My best barkeep doesn't come in until late afternoon.”

Anna slid onto a stool and crossed her ankles primly. “I've had a taste for bourbon lately,” she said easily, waiting for Eileen's reaction. “Single barrel, one hundred proof.”

“That's quite specific,” Eileen replied, pulling out a glass. “I'm not sure our stock is up to your standards.” Anna smiled and placed the box on the bar.

“I thought perhaps as a show of hospitality I'd supply my own? Think of it as a welcome home gift, as well as a business offering.” Eileen's mouth twitched into a smile as she took the box and pulled off the lid. Nestled inside was a glass bottle filled with a dark amber liquid. Anna thought the new labels looked very nice.

“Let's give it a try, then.” She opened the bottle and poured two glasses. “Neat, I assume?”

“It's my preference, yes.” Anna sipped the bourbon right away but watched Eileen give the product a thorough once-over before testing it.

“This flavor is unlike anything else we have. The exclusivity of a local product is appealing, as well. Have you streamlined production?”

“We have. There's several stages of casks and I can have two cases of six bottles each delivered at your earliest convenience. It seems a good place to start.”

“I think we can do some business. I'm looking to drag this hotel from the shadows. There's been so much wasted potential,” Eileen eyed her over the rim of her glass. “I understand we have similar goals.”

“Wasted potential is something I'm familiar with. I'm looking to lean less on imported liquors and expand the brewing. We have some experimental product with various grains. They aren't ready for anything other than testing currently, but I expect success. ”

“Good. It's about time this town was pried from the claws of men who do nothing but harm it.” Eileen took another sip and swirled the bourbon in her glass. “This flavor is truly remarkable. It'll do well here.”

“At _Love and Lucky_ we do aim to please.” Anna shamelessly polished off her glass. Eileen poured another serving and tapped her fingernails on the bar.

“I did want to discuss something else while you're here.”

“I imagine so.”

“Your son.” Eileen's gaze sharpened. “He's under control, yes? We all have our cracks and fissures but I'd like to know how well mended his are. Erza has a soft heart and I'm not sure she'd know how to save herself first if he had a relapse.”

“Jellal is very much aware of his proclivities. It would take a hard crash for him to backslide.”

“I don't tell my daughter what she can or can't do and that extends to any romantic partners. I worry as any mother would.” Eileen's eyes scanned the room and beyond to the lobby. “This hotel is where I make things right for Erza and even Laxus.”

“I feel the same. I can't make up for the losses my niece has suffered because I turned a blind eye to the poison in my own bed, but I'd like to make the path to whatever future she chooses a little easier. By the time she takes the reigns of _Love and Lucky,_ I want her to have something worthy of pride.”

“And what of your son's ambitions?”

Anna smiled. “He's shown little interest in the business aspect of _Love and Lucky._ I think his distaste stems from a few things but that's neither here nor there. I have it on good authority he's exploring his options. Jellal tells me Erza is quite the fighter.”

“She loves the heavy contact. My brother says she hasn't lost a fight yet.” Eileen smiled in a way that _might've_ been considered soft. “She doesn't stuff her demons away. She battles them head on.” Anna's eyebrow ticked upward but she didn't press.

“I'll have some paperwork drawn up for the cases,” Anna said, smoothing her hands over her skirt as she stood. “I do appreciate you taking the time to meet with me unannounced.”

“It isn't a problem at all.” Eileen stepped around the edge of the bar and led the way back to the lobby. “After we gage initial consumption, I'd like to discuss a showcase for the next Cherry Blossom Festival next year. It would be excellent exposure.”

“Of course.” Anna strode across the lobby and couldn't stop the self-satisfaction building in her chest. Her mother's advice of placing a husband at the vanguard felt outdated. She didn't need anyone at the helm of _Love and Lucky_ but herself.


	14. Under Construction!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _  
> **Important notice!**  
>  _
> 
>  
> 
> This chapter is under construction. The events therein are subject to minor changes. Once these chapters have been seen by my beta reader, I will post them in groups of ~5.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**EPILOGUE**

* * *

Laxus scowled when Mirajane placed a glass of ice water on the napkin in front of him.

“What's this?”

“Whoops!” Mirajane said with a bright smile. “I almost forgot!” She twisted a thin slice of lemon and hooked it on the rim of the glass. “There you go.”

“It's _water,”_ he complained.

“What did you expect?”

“Something a little stiffer,” Laxus deadpanned. Mirajane smiled and leaned over the bar.

“You're underage. I can't serve you alcohol.”

“So are you,” Laxus pointed out.

“I have a better fake ID than you.”

“Do you even know who I am?” he asked with a charming grin.

“I'm sure she does, Laxus,” an unimpressed voice from beside him said. “Miss Strauss is also well aware of who _I_ am and we don't serve alcohol to underaged persons in the lounge.” Eileen slid a square of paper across the bar toward Mirajane.

“Is this the tab for room two-oh-three?”

“It is. I'll be glad when they're gone in the morning. Diplomats are always the worst types of guests. Comp the whole tab, would you?”

“Of course. Maybe he'll pass out soon.”

“I sent him a bottle of the Heartfilia bourbon. That stuff would leave even a skilled drinker on their back. It's so smooth it sneaks up on you. I'll place a new order tomorrow so before you leave could you maybe get an idea of what's running low?”

“Absolutely.”

“I don't know what I'd do without you, Miss Strauss.” Eileen smiled at Mirajane but saved none of it for Laxus. She eyed him up and down before sighing. “If you're going to be in the lounge, Laxus, you could at least tuck in your shirt and wear a tie. I know Makarov raised you better. Miss Strauss is too kind to say so but your slovenliness embarrasses her. Make an effort, please.” She sashayed from the lounge and left him brooding.

“She –”

“Is the best thing to happen to this hotel,” Mirajane cut in smoothly. “Go change. I left that navy shirt I like out on your bed and a tie.”

“You know I can't do my own ties,” Laxus groused.

“Then I guess it's time for you to use the internet for something other than Call of Duty cheats.”

“I don't cheat!” Mirajane stood straight and smirked. “Fernandes cheats too,” he muttered as she moved down the bar to tend to a guest. Laxus sipped the lemon water and grew even more irritated that he enjoyed it.

When he left the lounge, the bar was busy. Mirajane enjoyed the rush but he was bored. The moment he stepped into the main elevator, Laxus wished he'd taken the service elevator in the kitchen. The lift was crowded with men in suits. The diplomat on the second floor commanded an entourage the size of a small sports team. He stood in the back corner and counted down the seconds until he could be alone.

The crowd emptied out once the elevator rose above the third floor. Only one person remained and though he was dressed sharply, Laxus didn't think he was any older than himself. The guy turned toward him and cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Spit it out, man,” Laxus muttered. He didn't think Eileen would care for his tone but she wasn't anywhere to be seen at the moment.

“You look like you know your way around and I was wondering if you could help me find someone?”

“A guest? Doubt it.”

“She's unmistakable. Red hair, brown eyes. Surely you've seen her.” Laxus turned and took full stock of the other occupant of the elevator. He was big. Bigger than Laxus.

“If you're looking for the owner, you won't find her anywhere around here. I'd suggest the concierge desk.” Laxus felt around in his pockets for any stray cigarettes. He'd already decided to spend the evening burning his lungs out in front of his bedroom windows. “She's out of your league, though, buddy. Trust me on that.”

“No, not her. The daughter. They look almost identical and I'd recognize her anywhere.”

“What do you want her for?”

The guy flushed and shrugged. Laxus almost laughed. “I knew her before she moved away. Back in Crocus.”

“No, you didn't,” Laxus said, his fingers finally finding the cigarette he'd taken from Jellal earlier.

“Excuse me?”

“Forget her.”

“I just –” He fumbled his words when Laxus poked the cigarette between his lips and bravely lit it inside the elevator. Eileen would have a shit fit but she also wouldn't care for guests lurking the hallways trying to get a bead on Erza.

“You here with the crowd of suits?” Laxus asked, blowing a cloud of smoke from between his lips.

“Uh, well, my dad –”

“Yeah, you look just like him. Mikazuchi, right?”

“Yes. Simon.”

“Look, man, it's one thing for your dad to hijack the bar all night and fill his gut with comped liquor but Eileen won't like it if you try to monopolize her daughter.”

“I don't know who the hell you think you are –”

Laxus emptied his lungs again and grinned. He held out the hand without a cigarette. “Laxus Dreyar.”

“Oh,” he breathed. “I didn't know.”

“Of course, you didn't. Stay away from my sister.” The elevator chimed and the door slid open. “Or, hey, keep up your search. The next guy you'll run into isn't as nice as me. He's an asshole.” Laxus nodded to the door. “I bet this is your stop.”

“Right,” he stammered. “Of course, it is.” Simon vacated the elevator and disappeared down the hallway. Laxus snubbed the cigarette on the bottom of his shoe and wished he hadn't been so reckless. Eileen would have his ass for smoking in an enclosed guest area.

* * *

By the time Mirajane joined him it was well after midnight. Laxus had graduated from cigarettes to a sloppily rolled joint.

“You know,” she said, plucking the joint from between his fingers. “About two hours ago Eileen was on a war path about some cigarette smoke in one of the elevators. I told her it couldn't possibly have been you. There's no way you'd be that stupid.”

“In _deed,”_ he drawled, wrapping his arm around Mirajane's waist.

“She'd eat you alive,” Mirajane whispered, brushing her lips over his. “Or at the very least make you cry. I think I'd like to see that.”

“You're cruel.”

“You'd love it.” She smiled and settled over his lap. “I see you didn't even consider changing clothes and coming back down to the lounge.”

“It was stuffy in there.”

“Maybe I should get a crimson wig and lay down some law. You need a firm hand, Laxus.” Her smile hadn't faded at all but the hand Laxus had been working under the hem of her skirt paused. His mind reeled with the possibility of Mirajane in a red wig. She exploded in a burst of giggles. “I was kidding, but it looks like I struck a nerve.”

“You don't need a red wig to get me to do what you want.” Mirajane quirked an eyebrow and stood. She turned away from him and brought her hair over her shoulder.

“Unzip me,” she said in a playful tone. Laxus tugged the zipper down and watched the dress pool at her feet. Mirajane said nothing else but left a trail of heels and underthings between him and the bathroom.

“Where're you going?”

 _“We,_ Laxus. You're going to fix my stressful evening for me.”

“I am?”

“Or you could just sit there by yourself all night.” Laxus heard her switch on the water and decided he'd be a good boy.

* * *

Jellal relaxed against the tiled rim of the hot tub and stared up at the stars. The weather had finally eased off into something warm and balmy. Summer was at the door and its heat would soak into everything from the wooded north side of Magnolia all the way down to the harbor.

He couldn't hear much over the hum of the jacuzzi but the breeze carried the scent of freesia. She surprised him when she eased into the water and sighed.

“I didn't know you were here.” Jellal glanced over and smiled. “That's not a bathing suit.”

“It's good enough. I have five more matching sets just like this one.” Erza flipped around and settled over his lap.

“Purple is a great color on you.”

“Are you giving me fashion tips now?” She ran her wet fingers through his hair and pressed a kiss to the side of his neck. “The hotel is full of men in suits tonight. It made my skin crawl. Lucy invited me to stay and your mom has disappeared into the back wing with her mysterious guest who looks a lot like my uncle.” Erza smiled and brushed her lips over his ear. “It wasn't hard to find you.”

“I'll have to thank Lucy.” Jellal grinned and found her hips with the palms of his hands. “Are you in for the evening?”

“If that's alright with you. It's a little late for me to show up at _Fairy Tail_ after just leaving with a bag. I'd rather avoid prying eyes.” Jellal's hands slid up and over her back. Erza relaxed into him and exhaled heavily. “Remember when I said school would be the worst place for us besides your front lawn?”

“Technically we're not on the front lawn.”

“You're a smart ass.”

“It's my specialty.” Jellal's fingers slid through the floating strands of Erza's hair. He'd battled the impulse to tell her _everything_ but decided against it. If she ever asked, he'd be honest. All of her questions had to do with _him_ and how he felt and whether or not he needed anything. Erza had already shown herself brave enough to confront him about his addiction and when he teetered on the edge. If she wanted to know what lurked in his other corners, she'd ask.

Erza sighed and pulled away from his chest. She smiled and wrapped her wet hair into a bun.

“It's sticky out here.”

“Summer in Magnolia is sticky. It's not nearly as humid in Crocus.” Jellal stood and grasped her arm to steady her. “We can go in.” Erza bit her lip and looked bashful for the first time since he'd met her. “What is it?”

“Your mom. She won't mind that I'm here and very obviously not with Lucy?”

“Even if she _did,_ and I promise she doesn't, will she raise an eyebrow when she's hosting Igneel several times a week?” Erza still bit her lip and glanced toward the house. Jellal wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “What can I do to make you comfortable?”

“I just want your mom to like me. I don't want to be the tramp that sneaks into her son's bed.”

“The _tramp?_ That's... a word.” Erza's cheeks flushed and her eyebrows dented frustratedly. “Listen, I know the lines are all blurred and different now when it comes to my family and yours. It's new and I was definitely surprised when you showed up tonight but, Erza, my mom was never the reason it wasn't safe for you here. I made it clear to her how I feel about you and she would never be rude.” She finally smiled and her arms looped around his waist.

“How do you feel about me?” she asked in a low voice. Jellal laughed softly and kissed her forehead.

“I think that's a discussion we should have inside. In my room. Maybe while I wash the chlorine out of your hair?”

“I think that's an acceptable plan.” Erza turned and grasped the handrail to step out of the hot tub. Water sluiced from her body and it was once again completely apparent that she was in a matching underwear set and not a bathing suit.

Jellal wrapped her in a towel and, as they entered the house, he was grateful for the blast of air conditioning. He'd only grabbed one towel on his way out and he needed the chill to keep his growing _problem_ under wraps until shutting his bedroom door behind him.

* * *

Erza smelled like his soap instead of freesia. She was a stomach sleeper and her still-damp hair lay in tangled ropes across her pillow. He thought his black sheets suited her perfectly. Jellal pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder before slipping out of the bed. On his way across the bedroom he grabbed a pair of athletic shorts and pulled them on.

The hallway was dark and the green clock above the oven blinked one-forty-five. A sliver of light coming from the refrigerator gave him pause. He half expected Igneel but it was Lucy sneaking a bowl of left overs. She gasped when she spun around.

“Jellal! You scared me. Why are you doing out here this late?” Lucy set aside the container and tried to casually fluff her hair but Jellal knew a sneak when he saw one.

“I could ask you the same question. Since when have you _ever_ come back for seconds in the middle of the night?” Jellal reached into the pantry and pulled out a bottle of water. He enjoyed the way Lucy fidgeted.

“I'm just hungry. I don't owe you a reason why.”

“You don't. I was only curious.” He took a drink of the water and watched Lucy make a show of inspecting a spoon they both knew was clean. “Well anyway,” he said casually. “I'm going back to bed. I hope Dragneel enjoys the flan.”

“No!” Lucy hissed. “That's not –”

“Sure thing, Lucy.” Jellal left her behind, grinning to himself. If he'd felt any trepidation before about Erza staying over – and he hadn't – that all went out the window.

Erza didn't stir except to roll and curl into him when he returned to bed. Jellal draped his arm around her waist and found sleep easily.

* * *

“One more year of this bullshit,” Laxus muttered.

“You'll miss it.” Jellal emptied his lungs of smoke with a sigh. The early morning autumn air was refreshing. “Eileen will hound your ass all throughout business school and I'm sure you'll call that bullshit, too.”

“I'll take a hounding to a beating any day. Better business school than drug dealer school.”

“I don't think that's an available major.” Jellal ashed his cigarette through the chain links.

“Your mom's not mad about you testing into the head start program next month?”

“Nah. She knows I never wanted _Love and Lucky_ anyway. Lucy is all about it. I know what I want to do.”

“Just don't decide to become a cop. I don't think I could let that one go.” Laxus laughed and Jellal scowled.

“They wouldn't take me if I begged. Ultear's mom is about to be a Captain. She doesn't want my ass anywhere near a badge.”

“Can you blame her?”

“Nope.” Jellal flicked the spent butt through the chainlink barrier. “I just want to have something that's mine.”

“In an ambulance?”

“Yep. That's the plan.” Jellal's fingers brushed the pack of cigarettes in his pocket thoughtfully. “Did you ever think –”

“Fuck no,” Laxus interrupted. “No I don't ever think about how we got to this point. I don't think about all the shitty things that had to happen to get us here.” He scowled down at the city. The burned out theatre was finally on the mend. “Are we done talking about our feelings?”

“You're such a dick, Dreyar.” Jellal squeezed the pack and let it go. He turned away from the barrier and headed for the door. “You coming? I promised Erza I'd actually have breakfast today. She'll be irritated enough that I smell like smoke. Don't make me late.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

* * *

' _In conclusion, I think the tapestry of Verona would've been far less bloody if there'd been fewer parties taking sides. It's the hands reaching across the gap that matter more than the lines dividing them. At the very least, Mercutio would've lived.'_

“Fancy,” Erza said. He could hear the grin in her voice. “So eloquent.” She leaned over his shoulder and planted a kiss on his cheek.

“Don't sound so surprised.”

“What made you settle on the most ridiculous thing Shakespeare ever wrote?”

“Oh come on, _Henry V_ is arguably his worst ever.”

Erza's lips brushed over the shell of his ear. “I said _ridiculous,”_ she whispered. “Not worst ever.”

“Semantics.” Jellal stood and pulled her off balance and into his chest. “You aren't going to argue with me on the last point?” Erza snorted and pulled his t-shirt over his head.

“Mercutio died because he was too much of a romantic idealist to recognize the danger in what he was doing. He represented the death of both Romeo and Juliet. Some gaps just can't be bridged without death.”

Jellal froze and his eyes fell to Erza's. The potency of her words shocked him. “What if Romeo and Mercutio decided to fight their establishment? What if Lady Capulet –” Erza pressed a finger to his lips.

“What are you talking about?” she whispered. Jellal continued to stare beyond her eyes. For the hundredth time he wondered if maybe he could've done _anything_ differently. Anything at all. But then he remembered his mother's blood. Anna's blood and the glint of his father's knife. “Jellal?”

Erza's voice brought his tangle of thoughts to a messy halt. “Yeah?” He blinked rapidly and finally focused.

“Are you okay? Where did you go?”

“I'm fine. Too much Shakespeare can drive a person crazy.”

“Let me distract you then.” Her hands slid up and over his shoulders. She kissed him with a distracting fervor. Jellal's mind veered away from the morbid and into the realm of freesia and the scarlet slipping through his fingers.


End file.
